Cargo
by rhoades
Summary: A government project, a cover-up ... outbreak!
1. Chapter 1

**A.N. Okay, this is not to be intended as 'Voyage II' but one can never tell. Sit back enjoy, and we will see what we will see.**

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

'So, what you are saying is…you don't know?'

The figure next to him adjusted the shoulder straps of its harness and tried their best to makes themselves comfortable. Not easy when the rumble and vibration of the huge transport was digging them into the meat of their chest.

'No, that's not what I'm saying.'

They moved their head to the left and stared out from under the reinforced rim of the Kevlar helmet that it wore.

'They don't tell us, we don't ask.'

Private Bobby Jenkins looked away from the irate corporal with a smile starting to form on his lips. He wasn't going to give up without an argument. It was fun after all, and this was the high point of his trip.

'But why man? Here we are armed to teeth, escorting a bunch of damned stiffs, and you sit there and tell me that you don't want to know? What the hell is wrong with you? You aren't the least bit curious?'

Corporal Mark Smith lifted his gaze to the slightly curved roof of the area they were in.

'Listen…I get paid a lot of money for these runs, you too I assume. They want to pay me to escort some dead people from point A to point B, with a fully-loaded weapon in my hands that I am never going to use…then I am not going to argue.'

Bobby opened his mouth to ask something else but never got the chance.

'And, trust me, the next stupid question out of your mouth will be your last. Because I'll grab your scrawny ass and throw you out this damn plane. See if you can fly.'

The other soldier wisely chose that moment to close his mouth, the smile lessened but still there. He was sure it was just an empty threat but he had heard stories about the other man; excessive force, those had been the words handed around. Rumours were that that was why he had got this gig in the first place.

He was smart enough not to push his luck.

He leant back in his chair closing his eyes as he did so.

He heard the older man say something under his breath. Sounding like…

'They scare the shit out of me anyway.'

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

The military-spec C-130 tore through the night sky, its wing-tip lights the only thing visible from the outside.

The craft had flown across the Atlantic from a base in the US headed for a research laboratory in the UK. It was currently over British airspace and flying low to avoid radar. Only a few people knew it was even there.

Aside from the two marines on guard duty the plane had a crew of two; pilot and co-pilot. That was it.

That was unless you counted the cargo.

This was the reason for the armed escort, and the unwritten flight plan.

The darkened hold of the craft held ten caskets. Each was temperature controlled and each had its own, separate power supply. Each was made of reinforced alloy and each held a body.

Dead of course.

Or…very nearly so.

At one end was a thick frosted plexi glass window. If you had been passing and looked down you would have seen a face looking back at you.

The men and women in the tubes had all donated their bodies to science. Although only a few of them knew what that would entail.

Every one of them had been infected with ebola to the common flu, along with other viruses that had never seen the light of day. If the public knew of them there would be hell to pay.

And then some.

They sat, strapped down, in two neat rows; one high, five deep, end to end.

Everything was quiet.

Everything was still.

The status lights all showing in the green.

All except one.

The red light started to wink faster and faster.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

'Jesus, don't you ever shut up?'

Bobby smiled, his job of annoying his colleague complete. He was just winding up for another sarcastic tirade when a red light started to flash above the door to the cockpit.

Almost instantly a tinny voice came over on the headsets both men wore.

'Okay back there, we got an atmosphere warning light on here. While neither of you are busy…'

The voice left the sentence unfinished, but the sentiment was clear.

Bobby started to unhitch his harness but the older man reached over and placed a restraining hand on his chest.

'You', he said with emphasise, 'stay here. I need to get the hell away from you for a while anyway.'

He pulled his own straps and stood, placing his M4 upright next to the seat. Pulling his sidearm he checked there was one in the barrel ready to go, just in case, and making sure of the safety put it back in the drop holster at his hip.

He stalked off towards the door to the hold.

'Hey, old man.'

Turning, Mark stared at the other marine. His frustration evident in his eyes, his hand hovering above the berretta. If only he thought.

'Shout if you need me okay?'

He lifted his hand and extended the middle finger flipping him 'the bird'.

'I wouldn't ask for your help if I was dying. And another thing…if I see you sneaking around behind me in the dark, so help me, I'll shoot you.'

Bobby watched the other man go. Only after he had disappeared did he drop the smile and close his eyes, leaning his head back against the cool, slightly vibrating steel behind him.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Mark ducked through the small archway, closing the door behind him and then stood as he entered the hold proper.

Damn it was cold in here.

At least he was away from that gob-shite that he had to travel with. Where the hell had they found that guy anyway.

He made his way slowly down one side of the large space and then turned to come down the other side his light playing over the containers in the darkness. He thought that he saw something out of the corner of his eye, down by the entrance that he had come through. It was there and then it was gone, he convinced himself that it had been nothing. He started back.

Now…what the hell…?

He approached the open casket; cold gas vapours still leaking from inside. He ducked low, brushing the mist away with one hand. His arm kept going, deeper and deeper.

He pulled his hand back and dropped the other to the butt of his pistol.

Where the hell was the body.

Then it hit him.

That damn kid. He'd ring his neck. It had to be some kind of sick joke. Well, the laugh would be on him when he got back, he'd kick his ass all over the damn plane.

He walked to the door and through it into the connecting hallway beyond.

That's weird, he was sure that he had closed it earlier.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Bobby heard a quiet noise in front of him and opened his eyes.

His smile fell from his face as he saw the figure that stood no more than a foot from him. He instinctively reached for the rifle at his side but it caught on the webbing of his seat. He tried to lift the pistol from his waist.

He tried to fire a shot.

He tried to defend himself.

Private Bobby Jenkins never got the chance to do either.

Strapped in he could do nothing but scream as the other figure darted in towards him.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Mark stepped through the last door, the curse already on his lips.

'That is the last time that you piss me…'

He never finished the sentence.

Mark stepped into a scene from a nightmare.

He took a moment to digest the scene and then yanked the semi from its holster, flicking off the safety in one smooth movement.

**'GET THE HELL OFF OF HIM!'**

The naked figure acted like it hadn't heard him. It stayed where it was, stooped over, its face buried in the midsection of the unfortunate private.

Mark fired once…twice.

A third time.

All three hit the body centre-mass, but the man barely moved from the impacts.

Mark lifted his aim and fired again.

The bullet hit the man in the back of the head just below the curve of the skull. The round exited through the left eye. The figure flew forwards with the force of the shot and hit the dead man in front of it. It slowly slid to the ground where it came to rest in a spreading pool of its own blood.

Mark stepped slowly forwards and reached his fingers for the blood spattered skin of the privates throat, searching for a pulse. Too late, the kid was dead.

Very.

The body already starting to cool.

He lowered his head for the merest of moments and then walked as fast as he could towards the closed door of the cockpit.

He lifted the hand with the gun and thumped on the door.

It opened almost immediately and he found himself staring down the barrel of a .45 colt semi-auto.

He pushed the gun away and stormed into the surprisingly large space. He faced the pilot.

We have a situation. One of the subjects got out. We need to land this thing…now!'

The pilot reached for an intercom switch, the plane not making a single correction in course or speed.

'What the hell are you doing? Why aren't we…?'

The .45 calibre shell from the co-pilots weapon entered his skull just below his left ear blowing his brains across the instruments to his right. The muted red lighting of the cockpit contrasting sharply with the deep crimson of arterial blood.

The report was incredibly loud in the confines of the flight deck.

The co-pilot sat back down and strapped himself back in, the pistol still clenched in one hand.

Neither man saw or heard the private behind them start to slowly twitch in his seat.

The pilot spoke quickly and quietly into the mic in front of his face and then, slowly and deliberately, turned the radio off. He sat back in his seat and crossed his arms across his chest.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Outside in the dark of the night, the f-15 that had been shadowing them for most of their journey, acquired a lock on the craft and launched the air-to-air missile that it had been ordered to fire only seconds before.

There was a roar of igniting gases as the rockets exhausts lit, followed almost at the same moment by a streak of read and yellow light as the long lethal tube sped towards its target.

The night was bathed in an explosion of light and sound as the rear of the transport plane disintegrated. The remainder of the aircraft spiralled down towards the earth.

The fight plane, its job now completed, banked hard to the left and climbed sharply into the night sky. The boom of supersonic speed was the only thing to mark its passing.


	2. Chapter 2

.1. _Winter Falls 2300 hours_

'So, when he came home, he found her with the pigs…in pieces.'

Philip Ceris looked across the campfire to his son. He stared back, a look of horror and joy on his twelve year old face.

'That's…so cool. Tell me another dad.'

Philip smiled and sat back on his haunches. He might have known that he wouldn't be able to scare the kid; he had posters of Freddy and Jason on his walls, and had taste for the hard rocking beats of Marilyn Manson and Rob Zombie. He knew that he shouldn't encourage it but, truth be told, he liked it as well. Since his wife had died three years ago he and the boy had been inseparable. They went camping, fishing, all sorts of cool stuff.

Being in the US he had even taken the boy target shooting on the range a few times, he had shown real promise.

At home, in the cupboard, there was his next birthday present; a Ruger .22. He had picked it up for himself but it was small enough so that he could hold it comfortably now on his own. He had no idea that he had it coming and the look that would be on his face would be worth a thousand pictures.

'Not right now champ, I think it's about time that we thought about sacking out. You want to sleep in the tent, or out here again?'

The boy had already crawled over to his sleeping bag and was sitting cross-legged on it.

'Here, here, here,' he sang.

Philip laughed.

'Okay, okay, you got it.'

He moved around the other side of the fire and reached out to ruffle the boys hair.

'Dad. You think that mum would have liked it out here?'

His hand stopped jus short of the blonde, close-cropped hair.

'Yeah,' he said. 'I think she would have loved it. Get some sleep, I'll see you in the morning 'kay?'

'Kay dad, night.'

Philip stood and walked a few paces away to where his own bag lay on the smooth grass.

He sat down and ran his hands through his salt and pepper hair, pushing it out of his eyes.

He wasn't going to cry, by God he wouldn't.

He saw her in the boy every time that he looked at him; his smile, his hair…his eyes. It was almost too much sometimes.

He was forty now, had married very young, as soon as he had let school. She was a waitress he had met while trying to get a career going with his band. The music had fallen through, the love between the two had blossomed. There had been no talk of kids but the night thirteen years ago when she had told him had been the second happiest day in his life. They had lived and loved together and now, this child, this angel, had been given to them.

Then as cruelly as that, just when they thought that they would be together forever, the unthinkable had happened.

She had been driving home one night after visiting friends when, on a wet stretch of lonely motorway, an eighteen-wheeler had jumped the median and broadsided her car. The truck driver had been thrown through the windscreen…he had lived, confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. His wife had been strapped in her seat as the truck, all twenty-two laden tonnes, had rolled over the drivers and passenger seats.

He got the call from a friend in the local police force at three a.m. and had gone straight to the scene, leaving Thomas with his sister.

He had cried when he had arrived, the shock too much to bear. Soon after he had taken his son and moved to the mountains, away from the city.

He looked over to the sleeping form of his son, lost in good dreams. He wanted to be young again, to be without fear and pain.

He envied him that much.

He lay down on his bag and put his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and pointed his face at the stars, trying to lose himself in happy thoughts.

He felt a warm wind on his skin and opened an eye. He looked up.

Flaming wreckage shot over where he lay, the wind screeching in its wake. It fell to the earth like a flaming meteorite and disappeared from view over the close hill. Philip jumped up and tried to see where it had gone.

'Dad?'

He looked down at the half-awake boy on the ground nearby.

'I thought I heard something.'

As soon as the words were out of his mouth his head sank back to the pillow under his head. He was asleep before it hit.

Philip looked up again into the sky, his interest well and truly peeked. His body no where near tired anymore.

_Motorway off-ramp - 2305 hours._

Officer Steve Finch sat in his patrol car, the night cool through the partly open window on his side. He had been there for over three hours and he still had another to go before he was due in.

He had been in the force for ten years and he loved the village, would do anything for it.

Crime stats were low; the youth defaced walls and such, but there was no drunken brawling and no violence. The streets were tidy and the local school was always bustling with the laughter of children.

Yes, he loved the village, wouldn't be anywhere else.

He looked through the windscreen at the stars and, like when he was a boy, started to count them. It belayed the boredom he felt when he was all alone.

He started from the left and then methodically moved his gaze to the left, starting to count again.

He leaned closer to the windscreen, looking in both directions.

The object flew over the car at no more than twenty feet above the ground.

The wind was so strong that it picked up the car and flipped it unto its side. It started to roll.

Steve held on for dear life, the heat from the thing finding its way into the car.

What the…!

The car came to rest on its roof, the seatbelt pulling against his chest and waist.

From where he was hanging he heard whatever it was, or had been, hit somewhere to the East, just a few scant miles from the place he called home.

He reached out and punched the seatbelt release, glad that it had become a habit to wear it. He fell heavily to the upturned roof and the wind was knocked out of him.

He caught his breath and crawled for the now smashed window.

Standing in the night he pulled the personal radio from where it hung on his belt.

'Mary, come in?'

The radio was silent for a few minutes then answered.

'Am I glad to hear you, we have reports from at least a hundred people, apparently people have been seeing meteorites over their homes. Can you believe that?'

Steve Finch pulled the mouth piece towards him.

'Mary…you won't believe the shit that I just saw.'

He dropped the mic and let it swing on the length of twisted cable.

He felt his legs go weak and sat down hard on the ground.

What the hell was that?

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with a shaky hand.

_Parsons Farm 2320hours_

Mick Parsons walked unsteadily from the big granite farmhouse. Trying to keep his dressing gown on with one hand while trying to load the double barrel that he carried with the other.

He abandoned the robe and concentrated on the shotgun, his thinking that he would rather be armed and naked than naked and not armed.

He ran to the corner of the building and poked his head around it.

The shotgun drooped in his hands and pointed to the ground.

There, in the middle of his field, was the mangled wreckage of, what looked like, a large plane.

There wasn't a whole hell of a lot left.

He started towards it.

The wreck was still burning, the metal giving off intense heat even from the distance he was at.

He had been awoken from his sleep by a huge boom and the sound of shattering glass as every window in his house exploded inwards.

He sat up in bed lifting his arms to protect his face, getting covered in shards of glass.

Grabbing the robe and the gun that he kept close by, he stumbled outside.

He stepped closer to the flames and then, strangely, began to cough.

He backed away, the coughing getting worse and worse until he was finding it hard to breath. The gun fell from his nerveless fingers.

He didn't see the figures as they stepped from the bushes on the other side of the field.

Didn't see one of the shadows lift something to its shoulder.

The green dot leapt from the object and travelled up the farmers body. Slowly it rose to a point just above his eyes.

Parsons became aware that something was wrong.

Through the coughing and tear-filled eyes he tried to wave at the figures standing in the dark.

The last thing he saw was a muted flash.

The bullet tore through his upraised fingers and hit him just off centre on his forehead.

His brains exploded from the back of his head and sprayed the area behind him crimson.

The figure lowered the rile and walked back into the bushes at its back.

Then they were gone.

Parsons was the first to die that night but he would be far from the last.

He was one of the lucky ones.


	3. Chapter 3

_Monday 0700 hours_

Thomas was the first to wake.

He looked over to the still sleeping form of his father. He knew that he would not have got to sleep 'til late so left him where he was.

He stood and stretched, breathing a great lungful of the fresh country air.

His twelve-year old brain saw the beauty in the surrounding area, he knew all about the cleanliness and the quiet of the country; much better than the horns and sirens in the city.

Thomas looked across the fields and saw a strange sight…

A group of figures walking next to the high hedges. From that distance it looked like they were dressed in white, their heads were a funny shape. One of them stopped and turned in his direction, raising something to its head. He saw the glint of sunshine reflected off something shiny and put his hand over his eyes, waving with the other.

The bright flash disappeared and he lowered his hand.

The figures were gone.

Thomas tried to see were they had gone and couldn't work it out.

He ran to the prone form on the ground a few feet away and dropped down next to him. He reached out his thin arms and shook the figure awake.

'Dad, dad! Wake up, I just saw aliens.'

He waited until the man opened one eye and sat back on his haunches.

'Dad…why are there aliens in the village?'

Philip opened the other eye.

'What? … who?'

But the boy had already forgotten, distracted by a colourful butterfly as it flew past his face.

_Monday 0730 hours_

Mary Royston reached out and opened the curtains in her small bedroom, the early morning daylight streaming through the glass.

She looked out unto the village in the world beyond the transparent barrier.

Village life was always slow to get started…

There was the milkman going about his rounds, delivering milk to all and sundry.

He whistled as he walked, the crates with the white liquid sloshing in the bottles at his side.

He wave to people that were up and about; old lady Morris, just opening the local shop, Mr. White, the landlord of the villages one and only pub. Several others that he passed.

She shifted her gaze and saw two middle-aged women chatting over the connecting wall to their houses. Both had on dressing gowns and slippers.

She smiled and walked to her dressing table, starting to get ready for another day.

She remembered last night; the disturbances that people had phoned inn while she had been at the station.

She remembered the radio call from Steve and wondered how he was that morning. She would have to check that as soon as she had the time.

She reached out and picked up the fine-bristled brush, pulling it through her long auburn hair.

After all the excitement of last night she was looking forward to another quiet day.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

As Mary was combing her hair, the women on the street discussing who was doing what to who on the soap of the day, and the milkman was delivering the last of the days milk, Steve Finch was bending over the toilet in his house on the other side of the village.

He opened his mouth and spewed forth a mixture of red and yellow vomit,

It spattered on the side of the bowl and ran down the sides into the already filthy water there.

He stopped for the moment and wiped the back of his hand across his lips, smearing the concoction across his cheeks.

Feeling finished for the time being he turned and sat heavily on the carpet.

He hung his head in his hands and gasped in deep breaths, breathing through the smell of the sewage that he had vomited out his mouth. He had never smelt anything quite so vile before.

The last thing that he remembered was getting home after his duty the night before.

He had taken a couple of headache tablets with a cold glass of tap water and then had gone straight to bed, the pain at his temples threatening to make him sob in pain.

In forty years of life he had never felt anything like that pain.

That was until he had woken up and felt the pain that was starting in his stomach.

He had rolled from his bed, only semi-aware of doing so and staggered to the bathroom. He had just made it before the fluid had burst from his mouth.

He closed his eyes and took another breath, making up his mind to call the doctor as soon as he was able to get to his feet.

He felt the gorge start to rise again and turned sluggishly back to the ceramic bowl.

Maybe he would be able to call later.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Philip strode down the main street in the centre of the village, Thomas at his heels like a puppy.

The boy carried the rolled up sleeping bags, each tied with twine to keep them from springing open, he carried the tent in its bag, the drawstring pulled tight.

As he walked he thought back to what he heard his son say earlier…Why are the aliens here?

He smiled at the thought but, was also slightly troubled. It wasn't like the boy to make up stories, especially something so…specific as aliens.

He had obviously seen something, but what/

What indeed.

They passed the local shop and his son ran in.

He had promised him some sweets and the boy had not forgotten the promise.

He stepped faster to catch him up, catching the door on the backswing. As he stepped into the cool air of the small, one floor building he saw a vehicle pull past. Nothing unusual in that. He thought that someone must be doing quite well to get a car like that, then nothing more of it as the black SUV, its dark windows seeming to suck in the sunlight, crawled slowly past.

The shop was very orderly; the shelves stocked with almost everything that a person could want.

'Good morning Mr. Ceris.'

Philip looked at the smiling face of the shop owner Mrs. Morris.

He smiled in response.

'_Morning Mrs. Morris. It's going to be a beautiful day again I think.'_

'_That would be nice. Think it may rain later on.'_

_Philip kept the smile on his face._

_That was the thing about the old girl, o matter how good the day, how good the weather, she had a knack of making it sound like it wouldn't last. It wasn't a bad thing, just the way that she was._

_Thomas tugged at his sleeve, a huge chocolate bar clenched in his small fist._

'_Whoa champ, you eat all that your teeth will fall out.'_

_The boy lowered his head and started to walk back to where he had picked the bar up from. The old lady was there like a ghost when he arrived, he had never seen her move from the counter. She bent down and whispered in his ear._

'_That's okay dearie, just make sure to brush your teeth good and proper after you eat it.'_

_She gave him a wink and swatted him playfully on the bottom. He turned around and, smiling broadly, waited patiently near the door._

Philip pulled his wallet from his trouser pocket but she waved him gently away.

'First customer of the day always gets a free feed.'

She turned her back and walked into the back room.

Philip pulled a couple of pound notes from the wallet and put them on the counter. He walked over to his son and walked back out into the sunlight.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Martin Spencer lifted the shotgun in his hands and took aim.

The duck that he had set his eyes on flew up into the air and started to fly to the west. He tracked the birds movements with a practiced hand and, finally, when it seemed that the bird was out of range, that he pulled the trigger.

The shot flew through the air and hit the bird as it started to veer a different direction.

It folded and headed for the ground, its wing all but gone.

Spencer stood from his crouch and started walking to where the bird came down. He walked through the bushes and was shocked almost rigid when he almost stepped on the partly burned body of a naked woman.

He took a hasty step backwards, his eyes riveted on the corpse in front of him, half in sunshine and half hidden. He overcame his horror and reached out a hand, sure that the figure would vanish as soon as he touched it.

His hand was mere inches from it when he noticed the green dot that had appeared on the back of his hand. The light started to travel up past his wrist then on to his arm. It travelled up and up, over his bicep and then across his chest. It came to rest over his heart.

He heard a sot click from somewhere ahead in the dense undergrowth and knew, too late, that he wouldn't find the fowl that he had shot.

The noise, when it came, sounded like a soft pop in the silence of the day.

The camouflaged shooter pulled the bolt back on the high-power rifle and then ducked back into the bushes, gone in the next instant.

Moments later several figures appeared and moved both the body of the poacher and the naked, burnt woman.

Three minutes after the shot the area looked as if it hadn't been disturbed.

As the figures vanished back the way they had come none noticed the partly submerged remains of another body in the river nearby.

It floated for a moment or two and then sank beneath the calm waters.

The river flowed on towards the village nearby.


	4. Chapter 4

_Monday - 0900 hours_

_Transmission outgoing …_

_General Wilkes from forward team. Containment protocols in place, two local casualties, no losses to team._

_Area secure as of last report._

_Crash site has been secured, bodies recovered and currently in transit back to operations._

_Phase two in effect - observation and prevention ongoing._

_Next report in six hours._

_**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**_

Parker walked through the centre of the village.

He wasn't his usual cheery self today.

He was troubled.

His friend and colleague had not called in that morning and Parker was concerned. The other had not missed a day of work in as long as he had been with the force.

The station had called and called as to the reason for the absence but had so far come up empty. He himself had called several times, both on the home number ad private number that he had. But, like the station, o-one had answered as yet.

Steve Finch had been known to like the bottle on occasion, but not when he had a shift the following morning.

Parker was worried.

He had been in the village all his short twenty-two years. Like the others that also lived here he enjoyed the peace and quiet, the solitude of the place. The nearest, closest village of any worth was over thirty miles away, only the odd farm dotting the landscape between there and where he now stood.

He took a deep breath of the crisp, cool morning air and stopped moving long enough to get his bearings. After the briefest of moments he chose the direction he needed and started off once more.

The breath helped clear his worry a little, but it didn't go completely.

As he walked on he nodded to the few people that he passed. He knew everyone by name but a nod was usually sufficient. Most waved in response, a few nodded in reciprocation to his own greeting.

It took him a further ten minutes of walking to reach his destination. This was where he finally stopped.

The two-storey granite house was almost identical to every other on the side of the road he stood on.

Any other day and it would be hard to tell them apart.

But strangely not today.

Something was wrong.

Parker opened the white-painted wooden gate and crunched his way up the gravel path towards the front door.

As he walked his police-mans mind took in all the details.

It was a beautiful day, yet all the curtains were drawn and the windows were all up. Surely, even this early, Steve would be up and airing the home for the coming day. Which meant one of two things; either the other man never came home after last night … or he was still in bed. Neither option sounded much like the man that he come to see.

He lifted his closed fist and knocked lightly on the heavy door.

He waited. And waited some more.

He was now very worried.

'Steve … get your lazy ass out of that pit your in and open the damn door!'

Nothing.

Parker sensed an … emptiness about the place. He reached down and put his hand on the handle. It opened with only the slightest pressure.

The barrier swung inwards and hit the inside wall with a soft thump.

Parker stepped attentively inside the hallway and gently closed the door behind him. He pulled the mag lite from his belt and hit the switch at the rear. A bright beam of light speared through the gloom and started to light the shadowy areas of the house.

He moved to the bottom of the stairs and looked up. The top of the flight was in complete darkness, the curtains up there must have been heavier to keep so much light out.

'Steve?'

A whispered question, a hopeful remark.

Nothing.

He was starting to like the feel in here less and less.

Putting the upstairs out of his mind for the moment he walked through the open door nearby into a small but functional living room. At first glance nothing seemed amiss. Then he noticed the small things; the broken glass on the carpet, the liquid spilled from within already dry on the carpet.

The table pushed just a little too firmly away from its usual position.

He walked through the room into the kitchen attached to one end.

The tap dripped maddeningly to itself. He reached over and absently shut it off.

It was then that he heard the stair creak in the hallway where he had just come from.

He spun around and walked back into the first room. His light blinked off throwing the whole area into murky darkness and shadows once more.

He walked forward and peered into the gloomy interior.

Across the room a shadow shifted and took a step closer.

'Steve? That you buddy?'

The figure took another step closer, its features indistinct still. Parker took a step closer all fear gone once he knew who it must be.

'You are one sorry son of a bitch. You had me worried. What the hell are you … ?'

The thing that had once been officer Steve Finch launched itself forwards and took the other officer to the floor. Before Parker knew what was happening the other buried its mouth into the soft flesh of his throat.

His twenty-two years ended on the floor of his friends house.

Two hours later he opened his eyes and looked on the world with a whole different view.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

People went about their daily routines with the minimum of fuss in the village.

Water from the stream came into the small plant and reservoir and was distributed around the community. It went into houses and public house, the local bank and nearby farms.

Dripping from countless taps it made its way into teas and coffee, juice and cold drinks.

Many that first day hardly noticed the strange coppery taste of their local tap water. What had happened in officer Finch's home repeated itself in many other homes.

It had begun.

The time was 0930.


	5. Chapter 5

_Monday - 1100 hours._

_Incoming…_

_General Feldman to General Wilkes … message follows …_

_Have received remnants of crash site. Study is ongoing._

_Be aware that remains contain previously unknown strain of viral agent._

_Next phase of operation is authorized._

_Laboratory needs fresh specimens. Soonest conclusion is advisable._

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Mary got into the station a little after eleven. The first thing that she noticed was the unusual quiet in the building.

She appeared to be the only person there apart from the cleaner who walked about doing whatever it was that he did. He smiled to her as she passed, a gentle bob of his head.

She walked over to the desk and sat behind the console, picking up the wireless headset as she pulled her chair towards her.

After switching on the unit she reached or the dial ahead of her.

A light ahead of her began to blink a steady green.

'Good morning, police, how can I help?'

There was heavy breathing on the end of the line. Great she thought, that's all I need first thing.

'Hello? Is there anybody there?'

The breathing changed into a scared, quiet voice.

'H … hello? Please help. My dad is downstairs. He's trying to … '

The line went quiet. No static, no slow shutdown. One second the voice was there, the next, just gone.

Nothing came through the other end.

She cycled through the frequencies for a full five minutes before she realized that, no, she wasn't wrong.

All the airwaves were dead.

She sat back in her swivel chair.

At least it would be a quiet day after all.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

'I know, but what else could she do?'

The wall separating the two rapidly talking women was crumbling under the years of countless leanings against it. In another ten they may wear it down completely.

Marlene lifted her tea cup a and took another swallow of the gin-laced liquid. Her companion would have a field day if she knew what she took in her morning brew, especially before noon.

They would stand there for at least four hours before retiring inside for afternoon lunch and then meet outside again until tea.

It had been their ritual for the last fifteen years and everyone in the village knew them both. Not one piece of gossip missed the sisters.

Although technically not related they were similar enough to be mistaken for such.

Phyllis tilted her gaze a few degrees and nodded towards where she looked.

The other woman looked in the direction.

There in the middle of the road where two men; one wore a police-mans uniform, the other wore a t-shirt and jogging bottoms. Both had their backs turned to the two women but even from that distance the two saw that there was something wrong with the men.

Marlene recognised one of the men from his build and started to shout a greeting.

They turned around.

Both women drained of all colour and the moment stretched, no-one moved an inch.

Marlene's cup slipped from her hand and shattered against the rough stone of the wall.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye.

The two men seemed to move in a blur, the two women seemed to be stuck in thick mud.

It was only when Phyllis was tackled to the floor and was in the process of having her face torn off that her friend found the strength to move.

She flew towards her open back door, belaying her large frame. She was at the door and starting to close it just as one of the men stood, fresh blood running from his mouth and chin, stood and looked her in the eye. She threw all the locks that she had as the man charged her. Steeping back from the glass she watched in horror as he crashed straight through the double-glazed partition.

He tripped over the low stoop and fell heavily to the floor, long slivers of glass sticking out of his body. Most of them, on their own, enough to stop an ordinary person.

He stood up.

A hand flew to her open mouth and clamped back the scream that she felt building there.

The face in front of her grinned through broken teeth, a glass sharp spearing him through the neck mixing his blood with the still tacky blood of her best friend.

He took a step towards her, then another.

Her heart chose that moment to stop in her chest.

She was dead before she hit the hard kitchen floor. She was spared the sight of the man bending over her prone form.

The sound of tearing flesh was loud in the empty house.


	6. Chapter 6

_Monday 1400 hours_

_Outgoing….._

_General Wilkes to General Feldman….._

_Have attempted contact on all frequencies with same result. Requesting extra ammunition if holding action is to be established._

_Please respond soonest._

_-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-_

'Two little ducks, 22.'

'On its own, number 1.'

The garishly coloured pen stabbed down on the number obliterating it from existence.

She looked down through her bifocal glasses.

Maude Evens wondered where Phyllis and Marlene were, and then instantly regretted spending any thought on them. They would be where they always were; leaning against the wall that separated their two properties, tea in hand and the latest gossip falling from their lips.

She was interrupted from her revere by the caller in front of her.

'Two fat ladies, 88.'

She scanned the sheet in front of her at a speed earned from countless visits to the hall.

She had only come today because the weather was nice and warm, and she had little else to do. She enjoyed her visits to the hall both today and for the last forty years and today was no different; the seats all around her full of locals and, she saw, strangers who were just passing through.

The fact that today's prize topped the hundred pound mark didn't hurt either. She smiled through the sticky toffee mess in her mouth and concentrated harder.

Maude could have no idea that she had ten minutes left to live.

* * *

><p>My God, why in seven bells of Hell had he agreed to this.<p>

Phil Smith pulled another ball from the slowly revolving cylinder and put his mouth closer to the microphone in front of him.

'Legs, 11.'

He had only agreed to this for the sake of a little peace and quiet. His mother could be a very persuasive woman.

_**'I don't ask you for much Phillip, do this for me please?'**_

She had made the plea into a whine and he had said yes to partly shut her up, but also to get away from the house for a while. Since the first cup of coffee that morning he had had one major headache. He had a pounding behind his eyes and his vision was blurring in and out of focus.

Just what I need he thought, another damned cold.

* * *

><p>'What do I do again?'<p>

Marcus looked down at his young son, a sarcastic answer on his lips when the youngster looked up at him. He looked into the boys big blue eyes and the retort evaporated before it was spoken. The look on the kids face could always melt his heart.

He leaned across the table and reached for the pen in his small fist.

'I'll show you one more time.'

* * *

><p>Phil saw the commotion at the doorway first. Thinking it was just some late arrivals he put his head back down and reached for another small numbered ball.<p>

That was when he heard the sound that stopped him dead.

He looked back up towards the entrance to the hall, the ball that he held falling to the floor at his feet. Slowly he got to his feet and started to back away, pushing the chair that he sat on away.

The scream of pain lingered in the air as the woman that had issued it struggled on the floor while the man who had attacked her chewed steadily on her left arm. Even as he watched another man joined the first, the ragged remains of a postman's uniform hanging from his body. The first figure yanked his head back, a chunk of bloody flesh in its jaws. As soon as it was out the way the other man darted in.

Phil backed slowly away from the scene that was unfolding in front of his eyes trying to move as quietly as humanly possible so as not to attract any attention to himself.

He reached the edge of the raised stage and stepped down to the wooden floor.

Stepping quickly but quietly backwards he shuffled towards the door that he knew to be there. Reaching back a hand when he thought he had gone far enough he groped for the door handle that would lead him outside and away from the nightmare.

He touched the wooden frame and his fingers slid to the left, his gaze refusing to leave the sight in front of him. His hand dropped through the space where the door would have been if it had been closed.

Phil chose that moment to turn around.

The three infected that were stood there wrestled him to the ground.

It was the last thing that he saw.

* * *

><p>Maude stood on shaky legs and grabbed her walking stick. She walked as quickly as she could towards the exit trying desperately to avoid the fighting that was going on around her.<p>

She felt something tug at her skirt and froze, looking down with wide eyes.

'Help …help me … please?'

She saw a man on the floor, his jacket covered in blood. He held a small hand in one of his clenched fists. She followed the arm and saw that the rest of the body was hidden under a squirming mass of bodies covering the floor.

'Please?'

The man begged again, his eyes pleading and totally focused on hers.

She took her free hand, the one not holding her stick, and started to reach for the man at her feet.

The man took his hand from her skirt and reached for her too. The noise and screams from around seemed to vanish and all that was left were the two of them.

Their fingers were millimetres apart when the mans eyes grew wide and he was dragged bodily away.

Maude stumbled back as soon as he was gone and found herself up against a wall.

She stumbled against it and her flailing arms caught the cups that had been laid out on the surface.

What seemed like every face, those that weren't eating someone else, looked in her direction. Several figures broke off from what they were doing, either finished or maybe sensing she was an easy target, and started to shamble their way to where she was standing. She saw them advancing and knew in that instant that she was going to die, very soon and very violently probably. At that moment something happened inside that she had not felt for a long, long time.

She failed to care.

About herself, about the people in the room, about anything,

She raised her walking stick in a defiant gesture and, brandishing it like a sword, stood her ground. A feral grin appeared on her face and she took a wobbly step towards her adversaries.

'You want me you scumbags, come and bloody get me!'

They did.


	7. Chapter 7

_Monday 20:00 hours._

_General Wilkes … outgoing …_

_Repeated requests still unanswered, have sent half of current team on re supply mission to nearest base of operations. Expect team to report back in no less than six hours._

_First report overdue from team._

_Current situation still containable. Will hold position until I receive orders._

_Out …_

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

'Dad?'

Philip looked up from the television and at the back of his sons head.

'Yes?'

'Why are there lots of people on the street?'

Philip stood and crossed to the window and the curtain there that his son had pulled to one side.

He moved Thomas out of the way and opened the gap wider, hardly comprehending what he saw there.

Outside the window the sun was just starting to dip in the darkening sky.

The street was full of people.

It looked like a damn town parade.

It was hard to see the figures accurately, the street lights seemed to be out and none of the outside house lights were on.

He let the curtain fall and turned to stare at Thomas were he stood in the centre of the room.

'Stay here champ, I'll be right back.'

'Ok dad.'

He sat down in front of the television already bored with the situation.

Philip went to the front door and opened it onto the cool early evening air.

The first person he saw was wearing a police officers uniform, the figure had its back to him. He walked up his garden path, the gravel crunching lightly underfoot and reached out a hand to the latch on the garden gate.

As the iron gate opened it squealed loudly.

The figures closest to his house turned and started to move slowly towards the sound.

Philip paid no attention to the slight movement and carried on walking towards the officer.

'Excuse me officer, what's going on?'

As the first words came out of his mouth the figure turned slowly almost painfully around.

It moved faster than Philip, but only just.

What he did next undoubtedly saved his life. As he saw the man lunge towards him he raised his arm, the others jaws snapping and biting down painfully on the meat of his arm, pinching skin and muscle through the fabric. Philip stumbled backwards and fell against his garden wall, the figure off the police man coming with him jaws still clamped to his arm.

He balled up his other fist and, before he could think about his actions, punched the man in the temple with as much force as he could muster.

The blow smashed into the mans head and, from what Philip could tell, not do a damn thing.

He got his free hand between himself and his attacker and pushed against his chest, trying to push him away. He heard the fabric of his shirt rip as the man fell backwards. The figures head bounced off the tarmac road. There was a sickening crack and he lay still, a spreading pool of blood starting to seep from underneath it.

Philip took a moment to catch his breath and then noticed that the other figures in the road had turned towards him.

All of them.

The closest was maybe ten feet away.

He spun to his left and dived back through the gate slamming the heavy iron as he went, throwing the latch. As it hit home, the closest figure slammed against the other side face first, its teeth brushing against Philips knuckles rocking the gate in its frame. Its nose opened and the front of his already torn shirt was sprayed with red from the pulped features. It didn't even slow down. He pulled his hand back and took a huge step back. All around the figure hands and arms appeared thrusting through the openings in the rails. Philip backed up, knowing that the door was close but not daring to take his eyes from the sight ahead of him. At this rate the gate would only slow them down. He hoped that when he got inside, and they couldn't see him, they would give up.

He continued to step backwards until he felt the heavy oak door at his back. He reached behind him and pulled the handle down.

It was the quickest opening and locking of a single door in human history. He slid down the smooth wood of the other side.

The gate hit the gravelled path outside and the first thumps sounded behind his head.

'Dad?'

Philip looked up to see his son standing in the hallway.

'Was it a party dad?'

The television in the front room died and the power went off. The only sound was the steady thump, thump, thump on wood.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Mary stepped from the bath at the same time as the lights went out.

She stood in her bathroom and held her breath for several seconds praying for the 0power to come back on.

Ever since she had been a child she had had an irrational fear o the dark; everything bad that happened had occurred in the dark.

A minute passed, then two … five, still nothing.

She started to shiver as the water cooled on her naked body. She had to come to term withy the fact that the light would probably be off for good. They had had power outages before but they had never lasted this long.

Mary made her way to her bedroom with the waning light coming in from outside. She got dressed in a hurry; jeans and a sweater to take off the chill then she made her way downstairs.

She opened a cupboard in the kitchen and grabbed the handful of candles that she knew were there. She lit three of them, placing them in saucers on the wooden table. The light from the white waxy sticks gave the room a weird flickering glow, throwing shadows into every corner. Not as good as electric light, but a lot better than no light at all. Maybe a good strong cup coffee would help sooth her nerves.

The water was out of the tap and in the kettle before she remembered that there was no power to boil it. She sat down at the table and lay her palms flat on the wooded surface.

Well, she thought, this was just great. What was she supposed to do now?

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

General Wilkes looked through the field binoculars and sighed deeply.

He had been ordered to observe a containment action.

Which he had done.

He had been ordered to retrieve samples to convey back to the research techs.

Which he had done.

But this, this madness had to be dealt with. He couldn't stand by and watch innocent civilians, uninfected civilians die needlessly.

He put the imagers down and turned to the rest of his men; ten in all called from various posts.

'Okay, this is what we are going to do. Grab your shit, whatever you need, this has gone from a containment protocol to search and rescue. Anything that gets in your way that doesn't breath … waste it.'

He pulled his side arm and jacked a round into the chamber.

He heard the sound of ten more rifles being primed almost as one.

'Gentlemen … let's go kick some ass.'


	8. Chapter 8

_Monday 2100 hrs._

Wilkes flattened himself against the wall the remainder of his men grouping around him. He checked his weapon for what was maybe the tenth time knowing that the ammo count was low, but not nearly ready to check for sure. The ten seconds that he took to check might make the difference between living and getting off a shot and getting his ass chewed down on.

Mason and Gibbs two privates that were never more than ten feet away from each other at any time crouched close by. The looks on their faces said it all; dirt-smeared and exhausted, their eyes trying to track in every direction at once. Their pistols were clutched in sweaty hands the barrels pointed towards the ground but ready to be brought to bear at a moments notice.

Next to those two knelt the teams demolitions expert, Fripps, his pistol still holstered and his rifle solidly held in both hands. A new addition to the team several months ago replacing the then team member. He had been invaluable in his chosen line of work and had saved himself and the team on more than a dozen occasions.

Of the rest of the ten men that he had taken with him, two had been sent to scout the other end of the village and the rest … the rest.

Wilkes tried to stop himself thinking about the rest. Five good men torn apart by the things that they had come to contain.

He rested his head against the rough brick of the wall at his back, his body slumping in on itself in a huge sigh.

They had made it into the centre of the village without incident, their confidence in their combat abilities foremost.

Wilkes had sent the two men of to the other end of the main street with orders to try and find and survivors and hole up until morning, they would reconnect then. It had been sergeant O'Sheas' idea to investigate the bingo hall in the centre of the village. And God forgive him, it had been Wilkes who had agreed to the action.

In hindsight they should have checked; it had been too quiet, too … dead. It had been the start of a rapid downward spiral of major screw-ups that had, ultimately, led them to where they were now. They had opened the double doors and probed their torches into the interior. Nothing moved, not a thing stirred. Two of the men had moved inside, the rest taking up flanking positions on the edges. Wilkes could still hear their voices in his head as they had whispered clear lines of sight where they moved.

They hadn't expected what happened next.

**_With their torches spearing swathes of light through the darkness they all watched as the soldier bent down, hand stretched towards the prone body of the old woman on the floor. His torch wavered as he bent low trying to turn the figure over. Not having the strength to do it one-handed he put his torch on the floor aiming the disk of light at the woman and slung his rifle unto his shoulder. He reached under her and hauled her as gently as he could unto her back._**

**_She didn't move._**

**_He put the two fingers of his right hand on her neck and pressed gently. Nothing._**

**_He stood and shook his head and reached again for the light._**

**_The attack came from nowhere._**

**_One second there was no-one near, the next the soldier was on the floor. The shadows thrown by the lights made dancing shadows inside the darkened building. Figures moved through the beams and everything seemed disjointed and confused._**

**_Then the screaming started._**

**_Weapons were levelled and although the others knew the soldier was gone they held on to the little hope that they had that he could still be alright. They couldn't fire, wouldn't until they knew for sure. _**

**_That had been the second mistake._**

**_While they had been concentrating on the scene that was unfolding in front of them, another group of infected had come in from the left. A soldier on the fringes had been caught unawares and everyone had spun when he had screamed a dead man hanging off his back, its teeth buried into the back of his neck. The man jerked as the teeth severed his spine and his finger tightened on the trigger of his rifle. Bullets flew towards the group and they had ducked, rolling this way and that._**

**_One man wasn't nearly fast enough though. The bullets started at the top of his thigh and marched across his stomach and chest punching through his body like it was made of nothing more substantial than paper. Wilkes was the closest to him and he could have sworn that he saw the spark off life leave the mans eyes as the last bullet from the other dying mans weapon caught him high on the temple. Wilkes felt the hot spray of blood as it hit his cheek._**

**_The creatures that had made it to the unformatted man now fell on him with a hunger that he had never before witnessed and tore the body apart. He managed to get to his feet and aimed his pistol. Bodies fell as fast as he could pull the trigger, some falling and then starting to get up moments later, others staying where they fell as a shot took them between the eyes or tore the tops of scalps off in showers of blood and gore._**

**_Wilkes willed himself to run away from the scene shouting for his men to do the same. Figures ran past him as he stopped to see how many had made it away._**

**_Stopping for a moment to drop the magazine from the .45 and slam a fresh one in. He thumbed the slide release and the solid steel of the barrel slammed into position loading a fresh round._**

**_He fired three times, each round catching a creature as they neared closer and closer._**

**_It was as he was turning, getting ready to run himself when he heard it._**

**_'Help … help me.'_**

**_He looked back the way they had come from and saw that another of his men had not been fast enough._**

**_Wilkes levelled the weapon at the man and a mutual look of acceptance passed between them._**

**_They had estimated their numbers, had underestimated their strength, but he would not let this man down if he could help it._**

**_He fired._**

**_One shot._**

**_Then, not looking to see what happened next, turned and sprinted after the remainder of his men._**

**_Not hearing anything behind him he put on a further burst of speed that belayed his age and didn't stop until he caught up with them._**

He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and sighed once more.

He climbed back to his feet and turned to face his men.

'Okay, rests over, let's see if we can find anyone still alive and get the hell out of here.'

_-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-_

'Dad, I can hear fireworks.'

Philip stood next to the curtain still looking out into the street through the crack in the curtain.

The scene beyond the fabric was, or rather, had been the same as earlier but now the crowd of bodies that were out there were dispersing. Most moving off towards the sounds from the other end of the village.

He knew what fireworks sounded like and what was happening somewhere out there it was not them.

'Sounds like it doesn't it?'

He turned and smiled at the boy trying his best to comfort him with a look. The boy smiled back. It was a strained twitch of the lips, but it was still a smile.

Philip looked back to where he had been looking. If there was one thing he knew the difference between it was fireworks and gunshots. Out there someone else other than he and his son where fighting for their lives.

'Stay away from the here, I'll be right back okay?'

The boy nodded and moved away from the window.

Philip bent and kissed him on the top of his head and then went out of the door into the hallway. He moved with the ease of familiarity up the flight of stairs to the second floor and went to his closet. Reaching inside he grabbed the small box that he knew was there and pulled it out.

He tore the wrapping paper off and threw the scraps on the floor. Opening the lid he pulled the small semi auto from inside and reached into the drawer at the side of his bed, he pulled the still full box of shells and started to rapidly load the two magazines that were also in the lidded box.

He slid one of the full magazines into the pistol and, standing, put the other into a front pocket.

He stood and stepped towards the door ready now to get back downstairs.

His sons scream pierced the silence of the night.

Philip ran as fast as he could.


	9. Chapter 9

_Monday 2300 hrs._

Philip threw himself down the stairs taking them three at a time heedless of the dark and the speed of his descent.

His sons scream still ringing in his head he misjudged the number of stairs from the first to the ground floor, his foot hitting the flat wooden floorboards of the hallway instead of the other step he imagined was there. He felt the impact jar up the length of his leg and slammed across into a wall opposite.

Landing heavily he felt the breath momentarily sucked from his lungs.

He couldn't rest.

He pushed himself off the flat surface and burst through the partly open door taking the room beyond in at a glance.

His son hid under the table in the far corner of the room eyes wide and staring in the gloom coming in from the window. He swung his head in the direction the boy was staring and froze feeling his heart jump up into his throat.

The figure there stood in darker shadow, its back to the open back door leading from the kitchen. One arm was raised the hand at the end huge and deformed looking.

Although Philip couldn't see its face he knew it was staring straight at him. It took a step towards him its other hand raising itself into the air.

Philip stepped back a pace, his back re-closing the door that he had just come through. He lifted both hands to ward off the attack that he knew was on its way.

One of his hands looked strange.

It took him a few seconds to figure out why.

Idiot, he forgot all about the gun.

He held it in a hand that shook just a little and reached out as far as he could. Taking just the merest fraction of a second to aim, he pulled the trigger.

Something hit the floor with a clang at the figures feet.

Two things happened almost simultaneously.

The hammer on the gun hit the live round underneath it and the shadow in front of him shouted.

'NO!'

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The soldier ducked back around the corner at the same time holding up a closed fist so his companion could see it.

'Now I know I'm not crazy. Told you I heard something'

Mark Samson closed his eyes and squatted against the rough brick at his back trying to forget the details of the sight he had just seen.

The street, almost empty now, just a few of the creatures stumbling about aimlessly.

The row of houses, mostly abandoned and still dark with the power cut. Doors hanging open or swinging slowly in the light night wind that had sprung up.

One house had been different from the rest.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it; maybe it was because it was the only one surrounded by the infected. They swarmed over the lower part of it like ants around food.

Maybe it was because as he looked around the corner he had seen a flash of light like a bulb exploding.

Maybe it was the gunshot that followed the light.

He did a quick calculation in his head, weighing up the pros and cons of the situation.

After several seconds his eyes snapped open and he lifted the rifle that he still carried in a white-knuckled grip. He pulled back the priming bolt as quietly as he could.

'Screw it, orders are orders.'

The other man looked over at him a faint smile starting to form on his lips.

'I hope to hell you got a plan. Or this is gonna be one short-ass rescue attempt.'

Mark looked him in the eye.

'Wait for my signal, don't trip.'

'What the hell are … ?'

He never got to finish the sentence.

Private Samson stood and, shouting at the top of his lungs, firing his gun into the crowd around the house, ran out into the road trying to draw the majority of the crowd away from whoever was inside.

Private Warren Mitchell watched the other man tear up the street the best part of a hundred dead cannibals hot on his heels.

Well, he thought, that was different.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wilkes walked in the darkest of the shadows, the remainder of his men close by.

The radio strapped to his belt beeped.

The damn thing had sat there useless and quiet for six hours, unable to raise anyone. Evidently someone had other ideas.

He reached up and hit the talk button on his throat mike.

'Hello, hello anyone read?'

He waited, the buzz of static echoing I his earpiece.

'Alpha team copy?'

Wilkes held up a hand the soldiers falling into defensive positions around him.

'Alpha, situation over?'

The radio reverted back to static once more. Wilkes held his breath.

'Containment failure at all locations, Clean sweep has been authorised. All teams have four hours, out.'

The radio went silent in Wilkes' ear.

He took a moment and let his hand drop from the band at his throat.

He turned slowly looking at each of his men in turn.

'You guys want the bad news … or the really bad news?'

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Mary sat at the table, Philip across from her. Thomas sat on the floor a glass of juice in his hands the situation from a couple of minutes ago all but forgotten now.

'You okay?'

Mary looked up from the chilled drink in her hands. At least she had stopped shaking. She managed a small smile.

'I'm just glad you missed.'

Philip looked over her shoulder, the impact of the bullet he had fired evident against the splintered frame of the door. At the last second he had lifted his arm and the round had gone high barely passing over the woman's head.

'I can't begin to say sorry enough. I … '

He couldn't finish the sentence.

She reached an arm across the table and put the palm of her hand on his forearm. She smiled.

It was enough for now.

He twitched his lips in response.

'Well', he said. 'Now that's all sorted out. What the hell do we do about them?'

He looked behind him at the window. Beyond the closed drapes he could make out darker shapes against the night.

It was then they heard the shouting, followed closely by several gunshots.

He jumped to his feet, the legs of the chair scraping the floor.

'Now what?'


	10. Chapter 10

_Monday - 2310 hours._

Private Mark Samson ran down the main road of the village, his rifle slapping against his back. He had slung the weapon so he could concentrate on his running.

He glanced over his shoulder as he went and almost lost his footing at the sight that greeted him.

What looked like the entirety of the village he had been sent to secure looked to be back there.

He saw some of the 'fresher' victims close on his heels. Further back came the old people and the children.

So many of them.

One thought seemed to reverberate throughout his mind as he barrelled down the street.

What the hell was I thinking.

He tore around another bend and hugged the wall trying to keep away from the centre of the street.

He had a good lead on the things that were following; maybe two minutes if he was lucky.

As he passed the front door of the closest home something stepped out into his path and the two of them fell in a tangle to the rough concrete.

Mark fell heavily on his side, the receiver of his rifle digging painfully into his shoulder and spine.

He put the pain and discomfort aside and rolled to one side jumping lithely to his feet and turning to face the treat that was waiting for him.

He looked into the terrified eyes of the teenager ahead of him and they stared straight back. They started to shuffle backwards, their course taking them back towards the corner of the building and the street that he had just come from.

He raised a hand and started towards the other figure, a warning stating to form on his lips.

'Wait, don't … let me …'

He never got to finish what he was trying to say.

The first of the infected came around the corner and literarily launched itself at the helpless figure on the floor. Hands that were now more akin to claws tore at the boys eyes pulling one of them free before he could even scream. As the juicy morsel popped from the socket the creature sucked it into its own mouth. Teeth clamped down and the eyeball became so much mush between its jaws.

It looked up for a split second and regarded Mark with a look of the up-most vacancy in its eyes, just pure hatred and hunger and fell once again on its helpless meal.

Mark stood in a kind of daze and unsung his rifle.

Lining up the sights he drew a bead on the youngsters head.

His remaining eye cleared for the fleetest of moments and he closed it becoming rigid as the thing above him darted its jaws in for another bite of bloody red meat.

Mark pulled the trigger and, not waiting around to see the results, resumed his run in the opposite direction. As he gained the speed that he had had a minute before the next person came into view, it too falling on the cooling corpse of the teenager.

Private Samson ran.

A pale arm shot out of a doorway as he passed and pulled him into the darkness inside.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Philip eased back a corner of the heavy curtain and risked a quick peek outside. The last of the people that had been there had gone, just this minute moving out of view. He lifted the fabric up slightly more and dared to hope for the best.

The woman who had been at the side of the house just out of sight threw her face against the glass. The pane cracked but held, for the moment.

Her nose shattered as it came into contact with the clear barrier. Blood and snot smeared the window as she slid her face across the pane. Philip shouted a quick curse and stepped back into the room, the curtain falling back into its place.

The shadow of the woman outside deformed for a moment as if growing and widening and then his the window frame off to the side.

Once…

Twice…

A third time.

There came the muffled sound of a body falling to the floor.

Someone knocked on the window.

'Hello?' Anyone there?'

Philip looked at where Mary stood, his boy held tight then, taking a deep breath, moved forward once more. With shaking fingers he pulled the curtain aside again.

The soldier on the other side smiled back at him, his face filthy with smudged camouflage paint.

'Military, I'm her to rescue you.'

His smile grew wider.

'You going to let me in? Or do I need to stand here all night?'

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wilkes stood at the window of the abandoned home, his hand held up to quiet the others standing nearby.

He looked to the space in the wall where the door had been before being broken. By who he didn't know, it had been done long before they got there.

The soldier who had stumbled past their hiding spot sat on the floor, his weapon trained on the dark rectangle. He was under no delusions, as were the rest of them, that if they were found and had to defend their position then their goose was well and truly cooked.

The first noise, the first gunshot and it would be all over I a minute. They would be torn apart.

He stood as still as a statue and watched the street.

He didn't have to wait for long.

The infected swarmed past the building like a rotten tide; dozens upon dozens of figures. A large figure wearing the remnants of a police uniform stopped and lifted his face into the sky seeming to sniff the air. It turned its head and just for the briefest of moments both man and dead seemed to lock stares with each other. Then apparently satisfied it dropped its gaze and loped off into the crowd once more.

The soldiers stood or sat motionless for a full twenty minutes until they were sure that the last of the huge group had gone past.

Wilkes let his hand drop to his side quietly putting the hammer down on the .45 in his hand, he let out the breath that he had been holding and slumped against the wall.

He realised someone had been talking.

'What?'

'Sir, I said I found survivors.'

He swivelled his head and could just make out the silhouette of the soldier who had spoken.

'Say again son?'

'Just thought you would like to know, sir.'


	11. Chapter 11

_Monday - 2330 hours_

Wilkes poked his head around the rough wall, the same wall that the private said that he had run from hours earlier.

The house across the road was as silent as the rest, nothing stirring anywhere near.

But then...

A twitch of a curtain, the shadow of a head looking out then darting back.

'How many did you say private? Do you know?'

The soldier opened his mouth to speak then thought better of what he was about to say.

'At least one in there with Private Mitchell sir. After that … I don't know. Sorry.'

Wilkes seemed satisfied, he nodded once and turned back to the street.

'Well, looks quiet for now.'

He pulled a small torch from his breast pocket and pointed it at the building.

'Let's see if anyone is watching.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

'Well, this is all very cosy, but what do we do now?'

Philip looked up at the soldier where he stood next to the window, his rifle held at the ready across his chest, barrel pointed towards the floor. He had no doubt that the man could use it and be ready in a heartbeat.

'We wait. Shouldn't be too long.'

Mary put down her bottled water and looked at the table as she spoke.

'We can't stay here, they'll find us like the last time … they'll find us and they'll get in. We are all going to die.'

Warren walked over to where she sat and knelt down next to her. He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. She flinched a little but stayed where she was looking sideways at him.

'I'm not going to let anything happen to you miss. I promise.'

He gently squeezed her shoulder and then, standing, walked back to where he had come from. He lifted a corner of the curtain again and froze as he looked outside.

Philip noticed the look on his face change and stood too his hand going to the pistol where it rested in his belt.

'What is it? Are they back?'

'No … not them.'

He turned from the window and reached into one of his many jacket pockets. He pulled out a small torch and started to flash it out the window towards the street.

'The cavalry has just arrived.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Wilkes started the sequence over again.

_How-many-sitrep_

_Four-survivors-secure location-next-move?_

_Wait-one-coming-to-you-be-ready-out._

'Okay, let's move. Keep it quiet and keep your heads down. With luck we'll be out of here soon.'

He took one last look into the street and then ran as fast as he could towards the house in front of them. This mission was a bust, the whole thing had gone completely wrong but the people they were going to meet had no idea how bad it was about to get.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

They sat at the table, both men staring at each other over the wooden expanse.

The others had taken up various positions around the room so at to cover as many angles as possible. Mary and Thomas sat on the floor doing another of his puzzles, the boys ability to cope still astounding his father.

Philip looked shocked and completely lost at what he had just been told.

Wilkes sat across from him and just looked back, his expression stoic. It was he who broke the silence.

'I know it's a shock after all … this. But we have no choice. We need to get out of here, and we need to do it sooner rather than later. We don't have a choice.'

Philip looked at the table then back again.

'How could this have happened? Surely there was something that the government could have done, something else that could have been done?'

'If it's any consolation, it should never have been done in the first place. But it wasn't my call. It got out of hand too quickly. I have just told you something that would get you put in prison and me shot, that is if there were anyone still in charge which I doubt.

But that isn't the worst of it.'

Philip looked more shocked than before.

'My neighbours and friends, people that I know are now, according to you, dead. And not laying-down-dead, but walking-around-wanting-to-eat-me dead, is that about the gist of things? And you tell me that it's worse. How, how could it possibly be any worse than that?'

Wilkes took a deep breath and told him the rest.

Philip was quiet for several minutes after until...

'You have got to be shitting me!'

Wilkes sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. He smiled his best sardonic grin.

'I know, sucks don't it?'

'Sir.'

Wilkes turned and looked at the soldier who had spoken.

'Sir, I have a suggestion, but you aren't going to like it.'

'Spit it out son, any idea is worth listening to. We don't have anything left to lose.'

Private Samson pulled out a chair and sat down and outlined his plan.

**A.N. Sorry about the long hiatus, been manic at work and home. Anyway hope you like the chapter and I promise that you wont have to wait too long to see what happens to the Wilkes, Philip and company.**


	12. Chapter 12

_**AN ... Sorry for the long delay, but I'm back ... and the story should be back on track.**_

**23:45 Hours**

The room had fallen totally silent, not a single person present wanting to say anything.

Mason sat in one of the chairs that ringed the table, his posture slightly forward, expectation in his eyes as he waited for the first response to his plan.

Philip sat opposite, disbelief and a little unease written across his features.

Wilkes sat at the head of the table slowly massaging his temple with one of his hands.

At long last he spoke.

'No, absolutely not. I will not risk further lives when we can all get out of here.'

Mason leant back in his own chair, his expression didn't change.

'With all due respect sir, we have very little time, precious little ammunition and are rapidly running thin on ideas. If anyone has a another idea or even a better one, I'd love to hear it.'

Philip looked from Wilkes to the private and then back again.

'You cannot seriously think that this is a good idea?'

Mary walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

'I'm sorry but he's right. Whoever you choose to go, if anyone goes back out there they won't be coming back, it's suicide.'

'He won't have to choose miss,' Mason said. 'As I see it this has volunteer written all over it.'

Wilkes turned to stare at the soldier, a smile starting to form on his face.

'You're out of your damn mind, you know that don't you?'

Mason smiled back.

'Amen to that sir.'

He turned back to look at Philip.

'The way I see it the first thing that I need is a truck, a big one. Something that won't be tipped if I get into trouble. Any ideas?'

Philip tilted his gaze to the ceiling his hands holding the sides of his head.

'Okay...okay, if I can't talk you idiots out of this then I'm coming with you.'

Mary gripped his shoulder harder, he placed his hand on hers.

'We need one of the feed trucks stored at the cattle yards, it's plenty big enough for what you need but the keys are in the office. You need to get them while I drive it. You don't want to be drawing attention to yourselves ransacking the place and then fumbling the operation of the truck. I can get it started quick, I've driven something like it before.'

Mason leaned forwards and lowered his voice.

'You need to stay here and look after your son Philip, we can do this without you, it's too dangerous.'

'Do you or any of these men know how to drive a diesel stick shift? No? I didn't think so, I'm going. There are more than enough people to protect my son here.'

'No.'

Philip turned his head and looked where the voice had come from.

'No', Mary said again. 'Thomas needs you.' She stepped back a pace and held both hands in the air stalling naother protest. 'I know you want to help but you can do more good here. I'll go. I used to live on a farm. I've been around these machines all my life.'

All eyes in the room locked onto hers, eyebrows were raised.

She smiled back at the astonished looks.

'What can I say guys, men aren't the only ones with skills.'

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

**00:10 Hours**

Mason looked over the bonnet of the burned-out car that they picked to shelter behind.

His eyes just above the line of the car he saw a sight that he had thought he might see;

Almost twenty dead littered the area between where they were and where they needed to be. He ducked back down and then turned to the others that were with him.

Gibbs as usual was no more than three feet away, one hand wrapped tightly around the fore-stock of his rifle, the other curled ready on the trigger.

Mary crouched next to him, her eyes wide, disbelief and horror written across her face. The 15 minutes that it had taken them to get here they had seen sights that no-one should have to witness. She had come close to screaming a couple of times, only the privates hand across her mouth stopping her.

She just hunkered there, eyes wide, staring into space.

He had his doubts about how she would cope with what they were going to have to do but, now, he had little chance to change his mind. He reached out a hand and placed it on her arm. She flinched a little but managed a small nod and smaller smile when he raised his eyebrow.

He looked at Gibbs and made a quick hand gesture.

The soldier stood and, picking his spot, let the chunk of concrete that he held in his hand fly up and towards a metal roofed shed fifty yards away.

The make-shift missile hit the corrugated sheet with a huge resounding crash and dozens of un dead eyes turned in the direction.

Gibbs ducked back down just as the masonry landed.

As the creatures started to move away the three figures slowly got to there feet and dashed across the open space towards the office. As they broke cover the fourth member of the team stood up from where he was situated.

Twenty yards further from where the concrete landed Fripps stood and walked to the end of the roof he was on. Where the others had been quiet as church mice his job was to be to be anything but.

Jumping on the metal roof and screaming at the top of his lungs his job was to draw the dead away from the building that housed the keys to the trucks and keep them occupied as long as possible.

He was very convincing.

He swore, he shouted...he insulted the things below him. First personally then parentally.

As he was running out of insults he saw three shadows scurry across the yard and angle towards the huge vehicle sheds that held the trucks.

**-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-**

Mason launched himself at the nearest truck and yanked open the door.

The thing inside must have been attacked and sought shelter there thinking that he would be safe. They had been half right. They were safe from the things outside, but not the infection that had been raging in their own bodies after they had been bitten.

It literally fell out of the cab and landed on the soldier. Mason let out an involuntary cry and threw his arms across his face to protect himself.

The went down in a struggling heap.

Mason got a hand under its chin to keep the snapping jaws from his throat, but it was strong, and it was only a matter of time.

From the side something whistled through the air and the figure above him flew off to the side. Gibbs stood over him, his rifle held backwards and used as a club. He shifted his grip and lifted the weapon again bringing the stock down with as much force as he could.

Once...the butt of the rifle bounced off the things skull, digging a deep bloodless furrow in its scalp, tearing away the better part of an ear as it hit the floor under it.

Twice...the blow landed solidly against the face mashing the nose to a pulp and flinging teeth through the air, turning the remains of the face concave.

Again...The stock lodged in the skull as the weapon went straight through the destroyed features, crunching through bone and cartilage both.

The body twitched, legs and arms thudding against the floor, then lay still, properly dead this time.

Mason pulled himself off the floor and leant against the side of the truck. Just as he opened his mouth to offer thanks he heard the huge diesel engine growl into life.

Gibbs ran to the large double doors and threw them wide.

Mason grabbed the rail on the side of the huge truck and swung himself into the cab.

The vehicle roared out into the night, all pretence of quiet gone now.

It sped over to the shed where the other soldier was hastily making his way down to a lower level.

The things around the base of the building turned their heads looking for the source of the new noise.

They saw it...

They moved...

They ran as fast as they could towards the new threat...

They were pulled and ground to mince meat beneath the massive wheels as it ploughed through them. Mary and the soldiers hardly felt the bumps as bodies were ground to pulp underneath them.

One of the creatures, a middle-aged woman still in her nightclothes tried to come in from the side, just as Mary turned the wheel towards the metal shed. Her body was caught between a large expanse of rusting, broken metal and the side of the truck. The body crushed between the two, shredded to bloody strips as the gap closed. Behind the truck appeared a long red and black stain, clothing stuck to the mess in gory clumps.

Mary slammed the brakes on fully as the truck reached the structure where the soldier waited. She looked up and saw him drop down into the back from ten feet further up. She heard rather than felt him as he landed on the mound of feed that was still in the back.

She reached out and crunched the shift into first and pushed her foot hard to the floor.

The truck roared off in the direction of the town. The remnents of the force that had greeted them as they arrived running after them.

Mason took the opportunity to lean his head against the head rest and closed his eyes.

Well, he thought, that was the easy part.

Now things could get...tricky...


	13. Chapter 13

_**00:30 hours**_

Mary pulled the steering wheel to the left narrowly avoiding the large Elm tree that appeared out of the darkness. The trucks headlights just illuminating it in time.

The huge tyres slid on the loose ground that made up the surface of the lane for a moment then found purchase. She dragged the wheel back to the right and managed, somehow, to correct the errant course of the vehicle getting it back on an even heading.

She heard the thumps of bodies falling in the trucks bed, the muted curses of the unfortunate men there.

'Sorry!' she shouted, unaware if her apology was even heard.

Mason sat in the passenger seat, face white, eyes darting from Mary to the hedges and trees flashing quickly just outside the window and then back to the woman who was, in his opinion, driving way too fast for such a narrow lane.

He found himself whispering a quiet prayer, something that he hadn't done in a long time. He wasn't even sure that a deity existed any more, but was more than willing to go on a little faith.

He turned and said something to Mary over the roaring of the diesel engine. She flicked her head toward him, a slight shrug of her shoulders to indicate that she hadn't heard over the motor. Mason stopped trying to compete with the sound of the truck, smiled and held up a thumb instead.

She smiled back, catching his meaning and bobbed her head in response.

She turned her attention back to the road.

The exchange had taken maybe twenty seconds at the outside.

More than enough time for the dead man to stumble into the path of the oncoming vehicle.

Mary saw the figure in the middle of the lane but by then it was far too late to do anything about it.

Much, much too late.

The truck hit the man at forty miles an hour.

The effect was both instant and final.

The man, what had once been a man, was hit solidly by the huge metal grill at the front of the truck and just exploded with the contact. Blood and flesh sprayed across the wind shield, fragments of shattered bone ricocheting against the glass.

Organs that had no right outside the body flying through the air making their own mini fountains of gore as they exploded against the roads surface.

The remainder of the body was dragged beneath the wheels and ground to a pup.

They both raised their hands, instinctively to protect their faces and eyes.

Mary realised her mistake as she took her hands from the wheel; the huge truck starting to slide out from underneath her. She grabbed the wheel and tried to wrestle the truck back to a controllable situation, trying to correct the skid they found themselves in.

It wasn't enough.

Once, twice...a third time.

Again and again.

The sides of the truck bounced across trunks of trees and low hedges, the impacts coming ever faster.

She let go of the wheel, unable to control it and resorted to the only thing she could do.

She stamped on the brakes...hard.

The idea was to stall the truck, somehow bring it to a safe halt. The truck however had other ideas.

Axles locked as the truck was still sliding sideways. She heard the sound of someone screaming and realised it was her a moment before the wheels caught on a deep rut in the road.

The machine started to tip, lifting up on one side.

It came down on its side with a huge crash, the window on her side shattering into a million shards.

She hit the side of her head on the metal partition next to the door and everything went black.

_**00:45**_

'They're late. Where the hell are they?'

Phillip looked at the colonel, a look of hopelessness in his eyes.

The other man continued to look out the window, the darkness outside hiding whatever may be out there.

He could only shake his head along with the other.

'They will get back, I know they will.'

He just hoped it was sooner rather than later. He was well aware they were rapidly running out of time.

_**00:50**_

Mason groaned as he regained his senses.

His eyesight was fuzzy at first but already improving with every passing moment.

'Mary?'

His voice was croaky with the smoke that came through the window. He tried to think, tried to …

Smoke?

His eyes opened with the speed of a steel shutter, senses instantly alert. Why the hell was he hanging sideways? He reached across his chest and down to his side, his fingers found the seatbelt clasp. He pushed the release and fell the few feet onto his ribs. He was up quickly, well as quick as he could anyway. He searched around the cabin and immediately saw Mary not far from him. She lay crumpled against the door underneath her. He reached across and grabbed her shoulder giving it a rough shake.

'Mary! Mary, wake up. We have to go now!'

She groaned loudly one of her hands fluttering to her brow where a large lump had formed.

'You...get the number...of the other guy?'

Mason smiled. At least she would be okay.

'We have to go...can you move?'

She nodded and started to crawl out from the position she was in. In no time they were at the other end of the cab and clambering out into the night. One of the trucks lights had smashed but the other was still on throwing dim shadows on everything. The smoke that Mason had seen was nothing more than dust from the roads surface. At least that was some good news.

He looked over the side and saw a sight that he had not wanted to see.

There, underneath the huge metal bed of the truck was what was left of a pair of black boots, the legs that were in them ended where the truck rested against the floor, the rest of the body out of sight.

He had no idea who it was but at least there was only one of them. That meant at least the other had hopefully survived.

That's when he saw him.

Gibbs was in the road walking back the way they had come. He stumbled as he went, his left leg dragging under him, his right arm angled grotesquely. He walked a few more steps then stopped where he was. He looked over his shoulder and Mason could see the ghost of a smile appear on his lips.

His good arm went up and Mason saw what he held in his hand.

'I hope you can run? It's about to get loud.'

He helped the woman to the ground and they started to run the other way.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Gibbs waited until he was sure the others were gone far enough then turned back to look the way he had been headed.

He could make out the first groans and growls of the approaching pack.

He looked down and forced his hand into his pocket, ignoring the intense pain that flared up his entire arm. He stared at the two faces in the picture: the woman, her flowing black hair and fine features, the boy who looked like a miniature version of himself.

He heard the steps of the dead getting closer by the second but could not pull his gaze from the picture.

The first of the creatures saw him standing there and charged towards him, arms held wide as if to embrace him.

Gibbs smiled as he heard it get closer and only when it was mere feet away did he look up. He pulled his thumb sharply up and tightened his fist at the same time pulling the pin freee of the fragmentation grenade that he held.

He smiled wide and freely, a sigh escaping his lips.

'Go screw yourself.'

The explosion lit up the darkened night.


	14. Chapter 14

_**0100 Hrs.**_

* * *

><p>'What do you think you are doing may I ask?'<p>

Philip looked up from where he was packing the last of what he was going to take with him.

'We have to go see if we can help, I may not know much about military weaponry but that sure as hell sounded like an explosion. Tell me I'm wrong?'

Wilkes opened his mouth as if he were about to say something then must have thought better of it.

' Yeah, that's what I thought.'

Philip turned back to the backpack on the table and reached across the wooden surface to get his gun.

'Now, either help me get ready … or shoot me. One way or another I'm going out that door to help who I can. You know as well as I do that the plane must have left by now and we are running out of time.' He looked over to where his son sat.

He looked back to the colonel.

'I need your help, I can't do this alone.'

Wilkes lowered his head and sighed deeply.

'I'd hate to shoot you … wouldn't want to clean up the mess. Okay, let's go.'

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

The two figures ducked in and out of fields, around the trunks of trees. Where the moon shone they avoided, preferring the dark patches of shadow to aid their movements.

Mary ducked low and helped the soldier Mason to her level. He had taken more of a bump than first thought. His movements were sluggish and said that he vision that blurred from time to time. Mary suspected a concussion.

Mason breathed heavily relying on the other for a lot of support, although he was starting to feel a bit better.

He held the pistol that he had managed to salvage in a tight grip knowing that if he lost the weapon they were as good as dead. The only problem with having it was the fact that he couldn't actually use it.

If he fired it in the stillness of the night he may as well sound a dinner bell. The sound of the shot would carry for miles in every direction alerting every dead creature for miles. As it was the explosion would have drawn the dead to their location had they not decided to move when they had. They needed to stay quiet and unseen if they were going to survive.

They needed to get back to Philips house. By their estimate they had less than two hours to get to the village and find the colonel, Philip and his boy, find the other soldiers and then get the hell out of Dodge before whatever was coming there way got there.

They stayed where they were as another straggler wandered past and then, only when they were sure the coast was clear, did they resume their journey.

_**0110 Hrs.**_

Mitchell crouched next to the car and cautiously poked his head over the bonnet. From where he was he could see at least a dozen of the creatures aimlessly wandering the street a hundred yards from him.

He scooted back down to the ground and looked again at his watch.

The luminous dial showed him it was just past 0110. He had been told that if the other group hadn't shown by then he was to make his way back to the house as quickly and as quietly as he could, with the minimum of company if at all possible.

Warren made sure that he wasn't being observed and then ran silently to the corner of the nearest building.

He flattened himself against the rough brickwork and in that instant knew that he wasn't alone. He spun and lifted his weapon. The darkness in front of him was almost absolute, shadows shifting within shadows. He edged his way forwards and his foot came down on some loose garbage. He slipped fell heavily into a garbage bin knocking it to the floor with a clang. Somehow still holding on to his pistol stood as quick as he could.

He was breathing heavily now, trying to control his racing heart rate, every damn creature in the area must have heard that. He listened as well as he could but could only hear the wind and the pounding in his chest. The thing that he was most afraid of; the shuffling of feet, the slow drag of rotting limbs … wasn't there.

Warren breathed a huge sigh of relief.

He closed his eyes for a second and leaned his head against the brick at his side.

Something touched him on the shoulder and he almost died right there.

He spun on his heel and looked back the way he had come. Standing there, wearing pyjamas and holding a teddy bear was the figure of a small girl, her face hidden in the shadows.

He lowered his gun and reached his free hand towards her. She stayed where she was seeming to sway gently on her feet.

'It's okay sweet heart. I'm not going to hurt you, but we have to leave. We have to get …'

The rest of the sentence was left unspoken as the figure in front of him suddenly lunged forwards and sank her teeth into the flesh of his fingers. Her small jaws came together with the sound of a bear trap and the digits were severed where they met the palm of his hand.

He just managed to hold back the yell that formed on his throat as he fell back on his ass.

In a moment of shock he didn't think twice … didn't hesitate. He lifted the pistol and sent a bullet crashing through the creatures skull. The small diminutive figure flew back with the impact of the shot and skidding along the floor, the long pieces of flesh falling out of her mouth and landing on the floor. She twitched once and then lay still.

Warren lifted his hand and tucked in into the folds of his shirt. The raw stumps brushed the rough fabric and he bit back another scream. He opened his eyes wide, the feelings of nausea strong and only just held in check.

It was a struggle, a battle that he would lose soon. He knew that whatever had killed and subsequently reanimated the people from the village was now coursing through his blood stream. On top of everything the need to keep quiet had gone. He could hear the tell tale sounds of movement behind the corner of the wall he slumped against. He was quickly running out of time.

He got shakily to his feet and started off down the other direction. As he neared the corner he heard the sound of numerous footsteps behind him.

He threw caution to the wind and turned and got ready to run.

They were already coming from the direction he was headed.

'Oh crap ...I knew I should have called in sick.'

The sound of his own voice cracking a joke seemed to send the creatures into overdrive. Everything close started to run in his direction.

He lifted his weapon and calmly shot the closest in the face; its cheek disintegrated in a spray of gore coating the next figure behind him. It twitched sideways for a moment only to correct its course the next and keep coming. His next shot took it high on the head and the scalp seemed to flip up like a lid.

It went down to lay there in a rapidly spreading pool of blood and brains. Other feet trampled what was left of its head into the tarmac.

Warren turned the other way and sent two more shots at the other group; one missed only to ricochet from the wall and take a creature in the neck. The other found its mark, the thing hitting the floor with a thud.

He turned again and fired three more times, the two groups almost within reaching distance.

Warren managed to lift one of his legs and kick a close figure into the group behind it, stopping the rush from that quarter temporarily, but there were plenty of others to take its place.

A figure in bloody rags fell on his legs and he felt teeth puncture his calf muscle, the jaws ripping a bloody chunk of flesh from his body, hot salty blood spraying into his face. Another set of teeth clamped down on his neck, the insane pain filling his entire body removing any other feeling he had. His fingers went numb and the gun hit the floor discharging into the crowd that was now surging around him. The last sight that Warren Mitchell had of this world was teeth headed towards his eyes; bloody strands of rotten, partially chewed meat hanging from the cavernous mouth.

Everything went black.

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

'Wait … did you hear something?'

Philip stood still, putting his boy behind him as a matter of reflex.

He heard the wind but very little else.

But just for a moment, a fleeting second he was sure he heard the sounds of gunshots somewhere in the night.

The two men looked at each other, instinctively knowing what it meant but refusing to believe what it had been.

Another man down. Philip lowered his head for the briefest of moments offering a silent prayer for whoever it had been.

'We cant help them now. Let's go.'


	15. Chapter 15

0125 Hrs.

She looked with disbelieving eyes towards the town limits.

The dead were everywhere, they were all that was left.

She shook her head slightly, more to clear the tears that were there than anything else. She couldn't believe what she was seeing; when they had left they had seen some of the infected but not this many, she wasn't even aware that there had been this many people in the entire village.

She saw all this and knew one thing was certain, as sure as she had ever been in her life...they would not get back to the house without first being ripped to pieces.

They couldn't get back to the others.

Mary turned and sank down to the ground, they were sheltered for now behind a large hedge, but they couldn't stay there forever. She turned and stared at her companion.

Mason sat slumped against the bole of a large tree, his eyes still fluttering every now and again from the knock to the head he had received, but he was getting better...slowly.

He noticed her looking and opened his eyes wider struggling to look more aware.

'I'm sorry...about...what happened.'

'It's okay, it wasn't your fault. I was driving. If anyone should be sorry, it should be me. Those...those poor men. They would be alive if it...it wasn't for...'

Mason leaned over and put his hand on her shoulder, she reached up and closed her fingers over his. A small nod and a smile and that was all it needed.

'So...what's the plan?'

Mason shook his head. 'Well, obviously we can't go back, if...if they have any sense they would get somewhere safer.'

He lifted his head and stared straight ahead.

'Somewhere they could get supplies. I know where they will be.'

Mary looked at him again.

'Let's hope it's not too far. If we run into a group of those...things we won't do well.'

Mason got to his feet leaning on Mary a little more than he should have.

'Not far...not far at all.'

They started off at a slow walk keeping to the shadows once more.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Philip sat against the door of the house they had found.

His son lay on the sofa, a light cover thrown over him, uncaring of their current plight.

The colonel looked out the window, his colt held tightly in his hand. It had not seen the inside of its holster since they had left his home.

Philip knew they were running out of time, less than two hours by his count. The colonel hadn't said much but Philip knew that the man had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Not only had he lost most of the men under his command, he was now the only man who could get the two of them out of the deep shit they found themselves in.

Philip leant back and found himself thinking of Mary. Where was she? Had she gotten away? Was she one of them? Was she dead? So many questions, so many unanswerable variables. He was sure that the shots they had heard before had come from the scout Wilkes had sent out. He had to assume that they were the only three uninfected left in the village.

If that were the case then their odds had just progressed from really, really bad to somewhere south of impossible.

He looked across to his sleeping child and wondered if he had the courage to do what would be necessary if...when the time came. He knew he would have to to save the boy. The fact that he might not be able to bring himself to do it...

He left the thought unanswered. Best not to think about it at the time.

Wilkes looked through the gap in the window careful to keep himself out of view from anything on the street. By his count everything on the street was either dead or very dead. The very dead didn't concern him, it was the dead; the walking around kind, that were the worry.

One bite, one scratch from any of them and he knew they would be toast...or rather dinner. He found himself smiling slightly at the thought and then immediately chastised himself over the thought, this was no time for frivolity.

He knew that in less than two hours a missile was going to hit the village that would wipe it from existence.

As he saw it there was only two choices left; hunker down somewhere deep and hope for the best, or get the hell out of dodge. Neither option looked very appealing as things stood but he couldn't just sit here and wait.

He looked over to Philip.

'You want to get out of here?'

Philip looked from where his son lay and met the older man eyes.

'Thought you would never ask.'

Wilkes stood and walked over to him.

'Do what I say when I say it. I may tell you to do something that you aren't going to like but you have to do it. You understand?'

Philip could only nod in response.

'Okay then. Wake the boy and lets get started.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Mary watched out from the tents flaps as Mason rummaged through the equipment that was left.

She held a pistol in a tight grip, the safety off and her finger curled around the trigger guard. Mason had shown her how to use it. She had three spare magazines as well, a total of forty-eight shots. He had told her to count to forty-seven then use the last on herself. If she was going ton go through that many shots then the last would be better off doing some good.

He had strapped on two handguns and a waist pouch with as much ammunition as he could carry. In a back pack he had placed what MRE's he could find and the last of the bottled water that the team had bought with them. He just hoped they would get to use it.

The plane would be on its way unless it was already in the air. They would have to get as far away from there current position as they could. He knew it would most likely not matter; he didn't know what the ordnance would be, but was aware it would be large. Maybe nowhere would be far enough to escape it.

But they owed it to everyone who had died to at least try.

'Uh...Mason?'

Mason turned at the sound of her voice.

'You might want to shake it...they're coming.'

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The water behind the camp rippled and broke, the hand that emerged swollen and rotten, the tattered remnants of a marine uniform hanging from it. The water logged fingers clawed at the bank and slowly but surely started to drag itself ashore.

**AN.**

**So anyone want to hazard a guess at who the new arrival might be? Here's a clue...anyone who remembers chapter 1 will have an idea...anyone who hasn't read it or has forgotten, go back and read it again.**

**Next chapter should have plenty of action.**

**Stay tuned for the carnage.**


	16. Chapter 16

_**0145 Hrs.**_

Mason shoot the final three rounds of the magazine before it clicked empty. He reached down and grabbed another, ejecting the spent one in a single, practised movement. The full magazine slotted into the pistol grip and with a final push locked into position.

He flicked the slide release with his thumb and the weapon chambered another round.

He risked a glance at Mary just to assure himself that she was still there more than anything else.

She looked to be handling herself as well as could be expected under the circumstances.

An empty magazine lay at her feet, more on the bank next to her.

She stood in a classic shooters' pose; one hand supporting the other where it held the pistol. Just as he had shown her.

He was glad she was there.

If he had been alone he would probably have turned the gun on himself by now.

He looked back to the front just in time to catch site of one of the dead running at his position. The man, or rather, what had once been a man, held his arms out before him, looking as if he was going to embrace the soldier. It made it ten more strides before Mason shot. He fired two rounds quickly, both finding their mark, one entering its eye socket, the other catching the forehead. The top half of the things head popped like a rotten tomato. Brain matter and skull fragments flew in every direction, some acting as shrapnel to the other two things that were directly behind it.

One of them was hit in the face, its head snapping back for a second before it carried on its course, the other remaining unscathed for the moment.

Mason dropped these with a couple more well placed shots, the weapon bucking in his practised hands, and then took a moment to scan the area searching for more threats, the sound of the shots still ringing in his ears.

Seeing no immediate targets he walked over to where Mary was.

He reached out and tapped her on the shoulder. She spun her head around, the look of terror gone in a second as she realised it was him and not some dead cannibal come to chew on her.

She dropped the gun from where it had been pointed at him and breathed a massive sigh of relief.

'You think that was it? That was the last of them?'

Mason shook his head slowly.

'I doubt it. Those shots will have pulled every one of them for miles. We got a break is all. How long? … I'm not sure I want to know.'

He smiled and was surprised when she smiled back.

They had got to the place where he and the rest of the squad had set up.

It had been covered with camouflage netting and had been far enough from the village to have remained undetected by either the dead or anything else.

They were as safe as they could be with the remainder of the weapons that were there and the river at their back. From what they had seen so far none of the dead could, or wanted to, cross the running water.

Mason went to check the sides of the small camp to make doubly sure they were alone while Mary gathered up the empty magazines.

She sat down off to the side and started to slowly and methodically reload them one shell at a time.

The click as the casings slid in one at a time was somehow therapeutic in the middle of all the chaos.

Mason looked where she was once more. If it came to it he knew he would shoot her and then himself rather than let either of them be taken by these things. Of all the ways to go that one would be somewhere at the bottom of a very, very long list. He grabbed another box of shells and took them over to her.

He handed them over and went back to patrolling the area.

An attack could come from anywhere.

He couldn't believe that they were the last two people left alive.

_**0150 Hrs.**_

'I tell you they were this way.'

Philip whispered to Wilkes as they hunkered down behind a car, his son protected between themselves.

Wilkes hung his head and slowly nodded his head.

'I know where they are. But, and this is a big but...I reckon we may have an issue getting there.'

Philip stared for a moment and understanding hit like a hammer blow.

Of course, he should have thought sooner.

The pack that they had seen moving off through the village had been going in the other direction than the way they were headed, which is why they had chosen the direct route back to the colonels camp in the first place.

Now was a totally different matter.

The shots that they had heard would bring them from far and wide. They were now caught between a huge group behind them and however many were left in front. If they were going to get to camp they would have to be very quiet or very quick.

Wilkes was hoping for very quiet, he wasn't sure if he had the speed to be very quick. The fewer of them that saw them the better. He just hoped that whoever was back at the camp would see them coming and be able to help.

'Okay, this is how we are going to play this...I'll go first, then the boy. You bring up the rear. We need to be quiet and as quick as we can. Ready?'

They moved without another word, if all went as planned they would get to their destination in ten minutes or thereabouts.

**_0205 Hrs._**

'Mason?...huh, Mason?'

He opened his eyes completely unaware that he had been dozing, mentally berating himself for doing so.

'Yeah?'

'I thought I saw something moving out there. By the cars.'

Mason grabbed his gun and held it out in front of him.

'Stay here, I may come back running.'

He stepped over the bank they hid behind, moving the netting just enough so he could get through.

Stepping off the grass verge he made his way as quietly as he could towards the parked cars a hundred yards a way, his gun sweeping every open space around him. Trying to take in everything at once.

He came to the bodies that he had put down earlier and gave the first a kick as he past it. The body rocked under the impact but that was all. He moved on mindful of the growing shadows around him. He wasn't sure if the infected could see in the dark but he was taking as little chance as he could.

Mason approached the car and ducked low starting to creep along the side closest to him. He held the gun ready and, after several breaths, moved around the side.

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Mary watched from where she was.

She knew at this range there would be nothing that she would be able to do. She would probably end up shooting Mason rather than anything that happened to go after him. At least she would be able to fire a warning shot if she saw anything.

At least she could do that much.

She was so engrossed at what she was seeing that she almost didn't hear the sound behind her. She spun on her heel and peered into the shadows behind her. She heard the river as it flowed by sluggishly in the dark, she heard the wind.

She edged closer.

She strained to see what had made the noise.

There...it came again.

A wet flopping sound as if something wet and heavy was being dragged along the ground.

Closer.

Closer still.

She was almost at the rivers edge when she found the source of the strange noise.

Her scream pierced the night.

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Masons' arm dropped at the sight that greeted him as he rounded the other side of the car. It had been the last thing that he thought would be possible, but there it was, or rather, there THEY were. 'Well, I'll be screwed. Where the hell have you been?'

Mary's scream wrenched him back to reality in a second.

'Oh crap!'

He turned on his heel and ran as fast as he could back to where she had been left.


	17. Chapter 17

_**0210 Hrs.**_

'Son of a bitch!'

Mason skidded on the loose ground his boots threw up as he rounded the corner. His brain taking a moment to try and decipher the scene in front of his eyes.

The...thing... seemed to have numerous arms and legs and two heads, the body a large thrashing mass.

Mason could do nothing but stare, his eyes bugging from his skull at the sight.

One head was obstructing the other. He raised the pistol he still held and sighted on the … whatever. It was the scream that snapped him out of his trance.

He saw it then for what it truly was; Mary on the floor, another figure over her rolling, fighting, trying to sink its rotten teeth into her.

He dropped the weapon on the ground and threw himself at them where they lay on the ground. He grabbed the figure on top and with a strength he hardly knew he had threw it through the air to one side. It landed in an untidy heap and slowly but surely started to drag itself to its feet.

Mary lunged at the soldier and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The both swivelled their heads and stared at it as it finally got to its feet.

The sodden remnants of the body armour hung off its bloated frame, the pallid white flesh sloughing from the bones. It looked like a soldier or someone who had belonged to a special military outfit.

Definitely not one of theirs.

Mason didn't know how long the body had been in the water but guessed it may have been some time.

The eyeless head rotated in their direction as Mary gave a small gasp.

The teeth opened and snapped shut with the force of a bear trap and the dead man started to shamble forwards.

Mason reached his hand forward realising in that moment that his weapon was still on the ground behind them. He could do nothing but hold the woman and try and shield her as best he could.

'Don't look.'

The dead ma got closer...closer...

It reached out one rotting water logged hand, the fingers hooked and frozen into ragged claws.

Then as quick as that...it was gone.

Mason hadn't realised that he had closed his eyes as well. He waited for the feel of teeth biting into his flesh that never came. He opened his eyes.

The man...what had once been a man...lay ten feet away, a red pool spreading around what was left of its head. He had never even heard the shot although it must have been loud. They both looked behind them.

The colonel was twenty yards away down on one knee, the smoke still curling from the end of the barrel of his colt. His eyes unwavering where they peered down the open sight.

'What did I tell you soldier? Never leave your weapon out of reach.'

Mason smiled.

'Yes sir, I'll remember that.'

Mary saw Philip and Mason let go. She got to her feet and ran to the other man throwing her arms around his neck shocking him with a huge wet kiss. The two soldiers looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

Mason started to pat himself down getting the ground from his uniform.

'I'm okay by the way if anyone's interested?'

Thomas sat on an empty ammunition crate his eyes swivelling first to the body on the floor then to his dad and the lady opposite where he was.

'Yucky.'

_**0215 Hrs.**_

Mason and Wilkes knelt ready at the barricade of boxes and crates. Guns drawn and magazines ready...close to hand. So far none of the dead that they had seen had noticed them back. As long as they kept quiet and still then they were ignored.

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Mary sat against a crate with Thomas, the boys propensity to deal with the situation currently at hand amazed her every-time she was near him. His innocence was refreshing to everyone. Youth tended to have that effect...she just wandered if he would live long enough to enjoy it. She knew if they got out of the village and into the world then it would all change. He would have to change and his would be hardest to accomplish.

**X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

Philip stood at the rivers edge watching the body of the soldier slowly sink beneath the surface. He had argued the point about putting it back but Wilkes had said that it had probably been in there for a long time, what damage the virus was going to do it had already done. They knew now that the water was unsafe but there was little they could do about it now.

And it was better out of sight under the surface than in the open where everyone could see...and smell it.

They had said nothing more about the subject. He looked over at where his boy sat with the woman that he had come to care about. And he knew, somewhere deep inside that everyone here in the camp would do anything and everything that they could to protect him and keep him from harm. If something were to happen to him then he knew that he would be taken care of. He felt moisture on his cheek and lifted a hand to wipe away the tear there.

He looked down to the gun in his hand and found himself wondering, not for the first time, what life would be like out in the world past the village. Would a gun be enough to live? Would they even win against an innumerable enemy?...

Would they want to?

Philip walked back to the two people who meant the most to him.

**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**

'Sir?'

Wilkes looked around at the whispered question, one eyebrow raised.

Mason crouch-walked over to him his gaze never leaving the street.

'We need to move, we can't stay here.'

The colonel looked down at the ground for just a moment. He knew the question and time were coming but, how could he tell everyone that he thought there was no hope. The men that he had sent were probably dead. Everybody was probably dead by now.

Where were they going to go?

What would they do when they got there?

Who would be left?

They had less than an hour and if Wilkes knew anything about military strategy at all, then the missile on the way would be a big one. The brass had no idea how far the spread would be so had to err on the side of caution, but they wouldn't send nukes...would they? Surely it hadn't got that far yet? If it had been him he would send an air-fuel explosive and air burst it. The resulting explosion would clear an area of ten miles plus, flash-frying every living thing. The blast wave levelling any standing structure up to twenty miles out.

They had to get at least that far away, preferably further.

How was the question.

They needed transport; something fast yet manoeuvrable.

For that there was only one place to go.

Back into the village.

'Okay, get everyone together. We are leaving.'


	18. Chapter 18

**0220 Hours**

Although he had wanted to leave straight away Wilkes' couldn't deny the woman a quick rest.

He looked across the open camp and nodded in the direction of Mary.

'She okay?'

Mason nodded back, a small movement of his head.

'I think she'll be fine. Just shook-up is all.'

Mary sat up against the side wall eyes on the now still waters of the lake. Nothing else had reared its head from the water since the incident but in her mind all manner of nasty creatures had shown up. Next to her sat Philip; he sat cross legged, worry evident on his features.

She had gone through a hell of a lot recently, they all had. He wondered about her well-being; her mental state.

Hell, they were all hanging on by a thread here.

He didn't know just how much more they all could take.

He reached out a hand and placed it gently on her shoulder. She flinched just a little, her eyes growing wide for just a split second. He squeezed harder and she relaxed when she realized it was just him.

She placed one of her hands over his and smiled a small tight smile.

Philip let her lean in against him feeling the comforting weight of her head against his shoulder. It was in that moment he realized he would do anything for her, for any of them who were left.

But, still...he couldn't shake the feeling that before this was over he would be mourning again.

Wilkes stared out into the night, the low moans of the dead the only noise in the otherwise abandoned village.

He knew that the chances of finding a vehicle and making it out of the area were slim to none so while the others rested he had come up with another plan. It was infinitely more dangerous and reckless but, if it worked, it may just save them all.

'Okay everyone, change of plan … listen up, this is how we are going to get out of this crap we find ourselves in.'

And he told them.

**0225 hours.**

Philip looked as if he had been kicked in the guts. Mary just sat there looking at the water as though she hadn't heard a word.

Mason slowly shook his head, one corner of his mouth curled into a tight half smile.

'So, that's that then. That's the choices we have left to us?'

Wilkes looked at the other man, a look of finality across his features.

'I'm sorry that's all we can do. We are out of options. But if anyone has any ideas then I am all ears.'

Philip sat back against a low bank. His head in his hands.

Mason gave the thumbs-up and Mary just stared.

Wilkes sighed deep and long. He stood and moved over to one of the few crates they had left and retrieved a few choice items for himself. He tucked them away in one of his deep jacket pockets.

'Okay, then we better move. I'll try to get our ride on the way. I just hope that there is still someone watching.'

**0235 Hours.**

The small group of survivors once again found themselves in the shadows as they made their way through the village. Wilkes again led the way, his attitude calm and calculating.

He held his pistol in a white knuckled grip ready to bring it to bear at the first second of trouble.

They ducked low around cars and halted silently as groups of the infected went past them. They made the best time that they could to where they were headed.

What should have taken two minutes actually took the best part of ten. But soon the squat flat-roofed police station came into view. Thankfully there was no immediate activity around the doors or windows although the former stood wide open in the darkness. They had no idea what waited them on the inside but also, at the same time, were rapidly going through the options left to them.

Wilkes signalled for them to stop and then, mustering more speed than he knew he had left ran as fast as he could covering the hundred or so feet to the entrance in record time. As soon as he was halfway across the open space Mason got up and ran as well. He stopped in a crouch next to the left side of the door and swung in low waiting for his eyes to adjust to the deeper gloom inside. Wilkes stayed standing but also swung his gun arm around the door frame. Both men stood there for a full two minutes before they moved inside.

Philip waited outside his gun clenched so tight that the grip left an imprint in the flesh of his palm.

Mary crouched next to him behind the police car, the boy wedged between them. She still stared into the dark as if she could still see things there that the others didn't but Philip put that down to delayed stress.

He watched the front of the building intently, waiting for any sign from the two men inside.

A figure came back through the dark rectangle and waved an arm beckoning them towards it. He sent his son and Mary first watching the road as they ran through the open space. The second they made it to the building he got to his feet and sprinted after them.

He didn't see the bag on the floor until he tripped over the thing. At that minute he knew that if there was a God the HE had gone on vacation. The tin cans inside the bag crashed against each other and burst from the black plastic rolling every which way. The rolled across the tarmac and crashed into the side of nearby metal bins.

Philip found himself on his back staring at the night sky. His heartbeat sounded too loud in his ears. He hoped that it was just his imagination.

The loud groans and snarls that heard however, were not in his head.

'Run! Now!'

Mason stood over him gun drawn and pointed down the street. He heard the other man curse under his breath.

Philip got up and turned to look in the direction of the soldier.

He froze, all strength leaving his legs, feeling himself start to melt inside. Mason grabbed his upper arm in a vice-like grip and shouted into his face.

'Run you daft sod!'

The both took off like Olympic sprinters.

As soon as they crossed the threshold the door slammed shut behind them the deadlocks snapping closed, the filing cabinets on both sides falling to the floor just missing their legs. Both men turned unto their backs and pointed their guns at the door … and waited.

The barrier rocked under the impact of numerous bodies as the dead outside threw themselves against it.

But it held.

Wilkes helped the two men to their feet.

'Go! Back of the station.'

Mary was at the first intersection, the others close on her heels, when the front doors were ripped from their mounts, wood and glass exploded into the foyer of the station some even showering against the far wall. Mason bringing up the rear felt something push him in the shoulder but managed to stay on his feet. He kept running.

Mary headed for a door at the end of the corridor they were in and stood waiting there.

Wilkes barrelled past her and crashed through the door pushing his weight against it to hold it open. The others ran past and started up the stairs. He reached out to stop Mason then thought better of it. What he had seen could wait a little longer. As soon as they were through he slammed the door shut and put the metal bar down on the other side. It wouldn't hold for long but maybe it would hold long enough. He took the stairs three at a time and shot through the other door at the top. Philip shut it as soon as he was past and shot the bolts and the padlock that were there. He sprawled onto the gravelled flat roof and tried to catch his breath.

Mason stood just behind him his gun trained on the door. It would take a while to break through both sets but given enough time and enough bodies they would eventually get through. They heard the breaking of glass from downstairs just under their feet and knew that the whole town, what was left of it, were converging on and entering the building downstairs.

'Mason … come here.'

Wilkes stood and lowered his pistol replacing it into its holster by his side. Mason strolled across to him his body for some reason starting to feel heavy.

'Turn around.'

He did as he was told.

He heard Philip gasp and wondered what the problem was. He found out in the next couple of seconds.

'Ah … you might want to hold on to something, or grit your teeth at least. This may hurt a little.'

Wilkes grabbed something behind him and pulled the pressure immediately going from his shoulder. It was replaced with pain, a lot of pain. He fell to his knees unable to stand on his feet for the moment. Still there he turned his head and looked to where his commanding officer stood. The older man held up the piece of wood for him to see. It was eighteen inches long and three inches wide at one end, the other tapered to a wicked looking point that was covered in the soldiers blood.

'At least you came away with a souvenir.'

He smiled and Mason managed a pained grin in return. As he heard the muffled sound of the first door being broken down at the bottom of the stairs his eyes closed and he landed face-first in the gravel in front of him.

**0240 Hours.**

Mason opened his eyes and the first thing he saw where concerned faces looking down at where he lay. His shoulder felt raw and ragged where the large piece of wood had been. The second thing he noticed was the fact it was lighter, and redder than it should have been. He turned his head to one side and saw two flares sputtering away near the edge of the roof. He knew that there would be two more on the other side as well, he had seen Wilkes pocket at least four when they had left camp.

He turned back to find the face of the older man.

'So that's the plan? Only forgot one thing …'

Wilkes held up the satellite phone he still had and smiled, Mason could now hear the voice on the other end.

'_I say again … chopper is en-route, e.t.a is four minutes. Out_.'

'Just got word from the two I sent when all this started. Friendlies are on the way.'

He leaned down and put a hand paternally on his uninjured shoulder.

'We're going home.'

Philip gently pulled the colonel away from the group and to the edge of the roof. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

'Do we have enough time? Yes or no?'

Wilkes thought carefully before he answered.

'If the chopper is on time, if the missile is late, if we don't all get eaten beforehand … then yes, I think we'll be okay.'

He looked at the other man intently for a full thirty seconds.

'You prey Philip?'

'Not for a long time, no. Why?'

Wilkes just smiled then.

'You may want to start. We deserve a miracle don't you think?'

The door to the roof started to shake with each impact that was thrown against it from the other side. The stairway wasn't wide but that didn't seem to be stopped those things that were there. What they couldn't manage in force was more than being made up with in numbers. The door would be down in a matter of minutes.

They had nowhere left to run.

Mary crouched behind the men head down touching the forehead of the boy she held.

Mason sat against the wall just to the side of them, his pistol cocked and pointed at the door held in a shaky grip.

Philip and Wilkes stood in front of the woman and child grim resolve on their faces weapons pointed to the fore.

They waited … there was nothing else they could do.

Wilkes knew that the swarm on the other side of the door would overwhelm them, tear them to pieces and push them from the edge of the roof. They would not be able to survive long. Just for a moment he turned to Philip and looked him straight in the eye. He lifted his gun so it was pointed in the general direction of the two figures behind them and lifted one eyebrow. The other man knew what he was thinking and knew in his heart that it would be the right thing to do...he just couldn't let him do it. He lifted his hand and moved the barrel of the weapon back to point at the door. He turned and walked the three steps to where the others sat. Mason saw him and understanding passed between them, he gave a small nod and forced himself to stand. He made his way, somewhat unsteadily to where Wilkes stood. Both warriors greeted each other with a silent nod and focused all their attention on the door ahead.

They waited for the onslaught to begin.

Philip let himself down heavily and sat next to Mary. He Reached his hand over and grasped the two of them to him pulling them close.

'I'm so sorry.'

Barely a whisper yet Mary seemed to register and understand. She tucked herself in tighter.

Philip put the barrel of his gun just off his sons temple and angled so it would take Mary as well.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

A beam of light swung out across the roof just as he was about to fire, a voice booming from the sky.

'_Clear below! Clear below!_'

All eyes shot upwards looking for the source.

The noise from the dead had been so loud, so overwhelming that they had failed to hear the approaching helicopter until it was almost on top of them.

The rope ladder hit the roof a couple of feet from where they where sending up bits of gravel into the air.

Philip didn't need to be told twice.

He grabbed his son and Mary and pushed them to the rungs. To their credit they both shimmied up the rope like monkeys soon to disappear into the belly of the aircraft.

He grabbed the rope and started to climb after them. He also got to the sliding door in record time helping hands shooting through the opening and pulling him on board. He spun as soon as he was able and shouted down to the other men still on the roof.

Wilkes turned and helped Mason to the ladder and waited until he placed a foot on the rung.

It was at that moment the door crashed open behind them.

Philip fired at the first of the infected as they set foot on the roof, his bullet taking it in the temple and dropping it with a heavy thud. It was soon replaced with others as the creatures behind jostled each other for the space it left behind. Philip fired as fast as he was able scoring a few direct hits but otherwise doing little damage, the high sharp crack of his weapon soon joined by the booming of the soldiers' below him. His weapon ran dry first and he dropped it to the floor reaching down with his hand and grabbing Masons as he stretched upwards. Their fingers entwined and he started to pull the other man towards him. The scream from below made both men turn and look back.

Wilkes was hanging on to the end of the ladder a pained look on his face. Several of the infected had attached themselves to his lower body biting and chewing on the flesh that ripped from his body. One of them bit into the meat of his thigh and twisted its head like a dog tearing the piece of bloody meat free. Mason lined up his shot carefully and fired, the shot took the top of the dead things head off, brain and skull fragments ploughing into the face of the creature behind it destroying one of its eyes and lacerating its face down to the bone. Still it came on even as the shot one fell to the floor in a heap.

Wilkes tried to climb higher but the sheer weight of the figures on his legs held him down. He looked up a final time and then, just like that, he was gone buried under an avalanche of dead flesh. The same dead hands grasping at the rope rungs of the ladder forcing the small craft down again. Mason looked down and a tear fell from his eye, partly from the pain in his shoulder, partly from the loss of the last of his unit.

A hand reached up and grasped at the air, the fingers having been chewed on; the skin torn and ragged. Mason looked into the eyes of the man above him and nodded once a small smile creasing the corners of his mouth.

'No … please.'

Philip pleaded with the other man even as he relaxed his fingers in his grip. He started to slid back towards the roof. Philip tried to hold on and felt himself start to slip as well. Hands behind grabbed his belt and yanked him backwards. The fingers in his hand finally fell through his sweaty palm and the soldier fell back into the throng.

By some act of amazing strength he stood and started to fire point blank at the things around him. Every one he shot went down a bullet hole to the head. While firing he reached into his vest and pulled a large knife then, without looking, slashed the ropes that tethered the chopper to the dead hands holding it. The craft lurched upwards for just a second before it corrected itself and hovered, everyone on board not able to do anything for the beleaguered soldier below.

The last Philip saw of the soldier was as he went over the roof borne on a wave of dead men. He pulled his gaze away and allowed himself to be strapped in. His son and Mary huddled together against the other side. Philip heard the engine whine louder and he was pushed against his harness as the craft banked sharply up and away. On a purely subconscious level he looked at his watch. He was amazed to see that everything had happened in the space of five minutes. He realized that the pilot was motioning to a pair of headphones hanging just above him. He reached up and somehow managed to put them on, the pilots voice came through loud and clear.

'Are there any more survivors sir?'

He shook his head and looked back to where they had come from.

'I'm sorry sir … but I've got to say you were damned lucky we were here. Some soldier boy got us on the radio and said his unit was here and needed evac. We were expecting more of you.'

Philip looked to where the pilot sat.

'There were.'

He reached up and took the headset off and dropped them an his lap cutting out anything else the pilot may have said.

The chopper shot into the night.

**0300 Hours. **

The missile came in over the tree tops low and fast its engines setting fire to the tops of trees it passed. It flew through the air on a pre-determined course seeming to slow as it approached the village. The long steel tube lifted slightly into the air as it approached the centre of the village and then detonated.

The immediate area around the missile became a fire storm of super heated air as the oxygen around was set alight. A huge fireball expanded like a miniature sun and engulfed the buildings and trees and figures as they stood looking up at it. Flesh was blasted away and bones were turned to ash as the blast destroyed every living and inanimate object in a five mile radius. The scene was repeated around the country many times as the surviving military forces tried to stem the tide of the dead.

But, as with all things, it was not enough.

THE END?

**A.N.**

**Phew...intense huh?**

**Thanks to everyone who has viewed and reviewed. Thanks also to everybody who has come along for the ride. Please understand that I have to keep writing, I love writing just as the rest of you love reading. Stay with me ... this leg is over but, rest assured, the journey is FAR from finished.**

**Rhoades.**


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